


Hell Is Other People

by odeon



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Birthday Party, Escort Service, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Romance, Smut, otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:23:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8155559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odeon/pseuds/odeon
Summary: Abby's 40th birthday party weekend is coming up but Carol's not too keen to show up for the festivities... She's NO DYKE after all, right? LOL. Luckily she comes up with a creative solution to fend off all unpleasant advances Abby's horny entourage might throw her way. Thank god for the all mighty Internet!





	1. Perpetual Sunrise

”I’m not taking no for an answer, and you know it.” When Abigail Gerhard got something in her head, there were no two ways about it. “It’s my 40th birthday, it’s going to be a huge fucking deal, and I want my best friend to celebrate it with me.” The look on her face was adamant, unyielding.

“I’m not comfortable with your crowd… your entourage,” Carol said defensively knowing fully well her objections would be met with yet another burst of stubborn determination. “I’m in no condition to fend off any unwanted _friendliness_.” She remembered far too vividly the last time she’d met with Abby’s less-than-inhibited gal pals.

“You've got to be kidding, Carol…” Abby sighed sounding outright frustrated. “It was an honest mistake – Megan had no idea you weren’t into women in the first place.” She took Carol’s hands into hers and gave them an encouraging squeeze. “She’d had one drink too many and she hit on you, big deal. Who can blame her? Take a look at yourself – you’re gorgeous and she was horny.” Abby’s eyes were pleading her to forget the misfortunate incident.

“Is she going to be there?” Carol asked sharply. She hadn’t forgotten how the redhead had cornered her in the toilet and tried to force herself on her.

“Megan? Well, yeah, she is my friend after all,” Abby replied sheepishly, “But I promise she won’t give you any more trouble. I will see to that.”

Carol wasn’t exactly convinced by her reassurance. It hadn’t been just about her coming on to her, it had entailed a lot more as well. For some reason Carol had decided to keep it from Abby – the flowers and the gifts that had been pouring in after the fateful night. Even her ex-husband Harge had cracked nasty jokes about _her lesbo affair_ one afternoon when he had been picking their daughter Rindy up for a weekend.

“Love, Megan…” Harge had read the card attached to a bouquet of red roses lying unwrapped on the kitchen counter. Carol had just meant to throw them in the trash when the doorbell had rung and made her forget about them for the time being. “Switching teams, huh?” he had joked not at all kindly. “I must’ve been one _hell_ of a husband for you to be put off by men.” Tight-lipped, she had snatched the bloody flowers from his hands and tossed them away.

“You will come, won’t you, Carol?” Abby pleaded after a short, troubled silence. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Carol drew a long, helpless breath. She knew she couldn’t disappoint her best friend no matter how much she dreaded the upcoming party. Abby’s festivities were to take place over the entire weekend at her family estate in Hudson Valley. She’d been there many times before, even with Abby’s friends, but never for several days at a time.

“Okay, I’ll be there,” she relented reluctantly. “But I won’t tolerate any funny business.” Beaming, Abby nodded and moved onto other things.

* * *

“Hello, Fred,” Carol greeted her lawyer as she met him for lunch the following day.

“Carol darling, so good to see you,” Fred Haymes acknowledged pulling out a chair for her. “I’m so glad we could arrange this in such short notice. You must be busy with the shop and Rindy?”

Smiling at him, Carol took a sip of water the waiter had already provided them with. “It’s hectic at times but nothing I can't handle. How’s Jimmy? What have you two been up to?” She had had dinner with Fred and his partner many times over the past few years.

“Actually… we broke up about a month ago,” Fred started apprehensively. “I found out he’d been cheating on me for quite a while now.” It was obvious the news had come as a shock to him.

“Oh my god, Fred… I’m so very sorry,” Carol said softly noticing the apparent uneasiness in her longtime friend’s demeanor. “Are you alright? Anything I can do?” She placed her palm over his hand on the table.

“Yeah… I mean I’m fine…” he stammered, “Thanks for the offer but I think I’m over the worst already.” Something told Carol he really wasn’t. “These past few weeks have been challenging but at least we’ve been able to come up with a preliminary settlement,” he continued, “Luckily we’re past the accusations – only thing left now is to try to make as graceful exit as possible and hope there won’t be any hard feelings after the final stretch…” Fred avoided looking Carol in the eyes, which was enough to tell her how much he was really hurting.

“Well, if there is anything at all I can help you with don’t hesitate to pick up the phone, okay?” Carol insisted patting his hand in encouragement. Fred had been there for her during her divorce and she would return the favor if he needed one.                            

“You’re very sweet, my dear, and I will keep that in mind. Thank you.” Focusing momentarily on his menu, Fred seemed to be at a loss for words. It didn’t last for too long. “How’s Abby? It’s been ages since we touched base – she has her big day coming up soon, doesn’t she?” He was keen to change the subject and Carol allowed him to do just that.

“Yes, next weekend as a matter of fact – she’s planned this outrageous country weekend for all her friends and as you can probably guess, it won’t be a small gathering either.” The thought of taking part in it made Carol’s stomach flip, which Fred was quick to notice.

“You don’t seem too happy about it… why is that?” Fred pried. He wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “Not looking forward to all those wealthy New York dykes frolicking about the grounds of her mansion?” A sly, knowing smile appeared on his lips.  

“I’m afraid you hit the nail right on its head, my friend,” Carol admitted meekly. “Too many sex starved heiresses for my taste,” she added knotting her brow.

“Then make sure you’re not available to cater to their appetites,” Fred chuckled unfolding his napkin on his lap. “Go with a date, I’m sure Abby wouldn’t mind if you brought someone along with you.”

Hearing Fred’s suggestion, Carol snorted. “I wish! I’d seriously consider asking you to go with me if I only could but it’s going to be strictly women only weekend – no men allowed.” She knew Abby wouldn’t make an exception, not even for her.

“Who said anything about men?” Fred laughed. “Take a woman and that’s that – problem solved.” The waiter had brought over their aperitifs, two perfectly prepared dry martinis.

“A woman!?” Carol exclaimed not quite certain if she’d understood him correctly. “I’m not a lesbian and I don’t date women. How would I ever pull something like that off?”

Fred cast a worried glance at her. “Oh Carol…” he sighed, “Sometimes you are so innocent it boggles my mind.” He reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a business card. “Here, give them a call, I’ve used their services many a time to get through some seriously awkward family dinners.” He handed the card to Carol:

 

> **PERPETUAL SUNRISE**
> 
> **First Ladies Online**

“An escort service!” Carol gasped turning the gilded card in her hand. “You want me to get me a hooker for Abby’s birthday weekend!?”

Although laughing unabashedly himself, Fred gestured Carol to lower her voice. “Good god, NO!” he hissed amusedly. “An escort… this is a classy agency, not a brothel, for crying out loud. You’re not paying for sex, you’re paying for the company of a bright, attractive woman who will make sure you won’t be hit on.” He grinned seeing the disbelief on Carol’s face. “It’s not like _I_ ended up fucking any of the women I was provided with,” he pointed out cheerfully. “I mean you _can_ if you want to but that would be strictly between you and the escort, a separate deal altogether.”

Shaking her head, Carol declined to discuss the matter further. She found the mere idea simply ludicrous but when she tried to give the card back, Fred insisted she keep it. _Very well, I’ll toss it away first chance I get_.

* * *

When Carol got back home she was met with yet another unpleasant surprise. A box of Belgian chocolates delivered to her door with an accompanying note:

 

> _Looking forward to Abby’s party…_
> 
> _xxx_
> 
> _Megan_

_For fuck’s sake…_ For a second Carol was ready to call Abby and let her know she wasn’t coming after all. Searching for a cigarette to soothe her agitated mind, she rummaged her handbag for a pack of Lucky’s. A piece of cardboard had stuck between the package and its plastic wrap – the contact info for the PERPETUAL SUNRISE.

Inhaling the smoke and slowly letting it out of her nostrils, she sat on the sofa and stared at the card on the coffee table. _What the heck, I might as well see what they’re offering_ , she mused opening her laptop. She typed the url on the address bar and waited for the site to open…

 

> **Looking for your…**
> 
> **PERPETUAL SUNRISE?**
> 
> **You’ve found it.**
> 
> **Welcome! (click here)**

Whatever Carol had thought she’d find over on the site, it turned out totally different. No garish pictures of slutty women in cheap neglisees gawking at the visitor their mouths drooping open. Not really any photos unless you were willing to create an account and to pay a fee to browse the gallery. I’m so not going to do this… Carol sobered up but before she had time to exit the site a chat window popped open:

**“This is Perpetual Sunrise, how may I help you?”**

Hesitating, Carol typed her opening line.

 **“I am looking for an escort.”** She pressed enter. _Fuck, of course I am… stating the obvious here…_

**“If you are a man looking for a female escort, press M… if you are a woman looking for a female escort, press W.”**

**“W”**

**“Please, indicate the age preference for the escort.”**

_Age preference? Like how old she’s supposed to be? My age, fortiesh maybe?_

**“25-35.”** Carol pressed enter.

**“Please, indicate any specific characteristics you may have in mind.”**

_I’m so unprepared for this… what the fuck do I write now?_

**“Intelligent, cultured, well-mannered… brunette.”** Enter.

**“Please stand by.”**

* * *

If it had taken a moment longer Carol would’ve most likely closed the browser altogether but the results of her chat search appeared before her eyes surprisingly fast.

Elizabeth, 34 – a fervent lover of arts, enjoys traveling and good conversations… _She looks too eager to please_.

Pamela, 29 – “Remember that wherever your heart is, there you will find your treasure.” _Nope!_ Seeing the Paolo Coelho quote put Carol off in no time.

Laura, 31 – an animal rights activist, a vegan, a hot yoga instructor… _I. Don’t. Think. So_.

Cammie, 27 – a book worm who enjoys the outdoors as well, loves classical music… _This could have potential… but let me look at one more…_

Therese, 25 – interests: photography, reading, arts in general, dislikes: pretention, stupidity, favorite quote: “Hell is other people. – Jean-Paul Sartre”

 _Well, well, well…_ Carol’s interest was piqued. She clicked the thumbnail picture next to the written profile. What opened up surprised her even more: the young woman in the picture was nothing short of gorgeous. She had the greenest pair of eyes Carol had ever seen in her life and her impeccable face possessed a luminosity enough to jolt her even through the smudged computer screen.   

 **“Has anyone caught your attention?”** asked the chat window.

Carol took a moment to ponder what to type in return. _This is crazy, right? I don’t do this_. She looked at the enlarged photo of a beautiful brunette. Then she noticed the box of chocolates on the side table. _Fuck_.

 **“Therese, 25.”** She pressed enter.


	2. No Fuck Rule

”Carolyn Ross?” The voice on the other end of the line sounded confused.

”This is she,” Carol replied wondering who on earth would ask her using her maiden name. She had answered the call with her married one after all.

”Ahem…” the caller hesitated, ”This is Therese… I’m calling about our… _date_.”

Grateful she happened to be alone at home, Carol’s face turned instantly dark red. While creating her online account, she’d given the escort agency her former name instead of the current one. ”Oh, hi…” she managed to utter despite the sudden panic the unexpected contact now stirred in her.

”I just wanted to make sure it was me you meant to choose instead of somebody else?” asked the voice finally identified as ’Therese, 25’. ”You did read _my_ profile? The one with the Sartre quote,” she demanded to know.

”Yes…” Carol replied puzzled, ”Was it somehow inaccurate?” She found the young woman’s question if not troubling at least odd.

”No, no…” the voice was quick to add, ”I just… well, nevermind.” The caller paused for a short while. ”I need background info and some clothes, I think,” she blurted out the next moment. ”To know a bit about this gig beforehand and dress accordingly, you know…” Silence ensued.

”Of course,” Carol admitted, bewildered by the sheer improbability of a call like this ever happening to her. ”Maybe I can fill you in on our way to my friend’s house?” Her words tumbled unevenly out of her mouth.

”So do you have any preferences regarding the wardrobe?” ’Therese, 25’ asked. ”I assume at least something formal, outdoorsy and casually chic?”

_So I’m supposed to dress her up as well?_ Carol mused nervously. ”That pretty much covers it, I think…” she started cautiously. ”Maybe a Givenchy for dinner wear?” _Where the hell did that come from?_

”Whatever you say,” the voice acknowledged, ”and afterwards I get to keep it all, is that okay?” It sounded more like a statement than a question demanding an answer.

”By all means,” Carol relented to. ”It’s not like I have any use for it later.” She attempted to chuckle but the frivolous laughter came out all wrong - it resembled a somewhat sad squeak instead.

Having settled the clothing issue, they decided to meet at the corner of 6th and West 50th St, right next to the Radio City Music Hall at 4 PM on Friday.

* * *

_The gig_. The word her weekend companion had used made Carol increasingly agitated as she approached the famous Manhattan landmark at ten to four on late Friday afternoon. Her jet black Aston Martin V8 Vantage had its top on and she intended to keep it on as well. _No point in her seeing me first_ , Carol thought trying to locate the beautiful brunette in the crowd flocking the area adjacent to the Rockefeller Center.

Having learned about Carol’s date, Abby had been more than surprised to put it mildly. She’d been positively stunned for several minutes. When the inevitable questions had started to pour in, Carol had done her very best to avoid answering every single one of them. ”Her name is Therese and you’ll meet her on Friday”, she’d repeated stubbornly.

”Carol Aird?” A knock on the passenger’s side window was enough to yank her out of her absentminded confusion. A beautiful young woman in her midtwenties had leaned into look through the car window. Her vibrant green eyes asked a question Carol found suddenly inexplicably difficult to answer. ”Are you Carol Aird? Are you supposed to meet me here? I'm Therese.”

Flustered, Carol nodded and released the door lock to let the brunette in. ”Can you open the trunk? I’d like to put my suitcase in.” Therese pointed towards the back of the car as if knowing how totally inept Carol was to do anything on her own at the moment. Her cheeks burning up, Carol nodded again.

”What a nice ride you’ve got,” Therese complimented as she’d settled on the seat next to her blonde driver. ”I don’t think I’ve ever seen a car like this before.” She traced the detailed stitchings of its leather interior with her long, graceful fingers.

”Thanks,” Carol said self-consciously, ”I inherited it from my father who loved cars. This one was his pride and joy.” Normally she would’ve continued endlessly about her beloved James Bond car but now she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

”It looks awfully familiar,” Therese commented, ”Is it like a movie car or something?”

_It was Timothy Dalton’s car in the Living Daylights_ , Carol wanted to say but couldn’t. ”Yes.”

Therese tried to strike up a conversation a few more times but to no avail. Every single time she asked something Carol seemed to freeze completely mumbling mere one-word-answers in return. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ She questioned her off-beat behaviour. _She seems perfectly nice yet I am acting like a total moron_. _Snap out of it_ , Carol admonished herself.

”I’m sorry…” Carol started uncomfortably, ”It’s just that this is so out of character for me… I don’t do _things_ _like this_.” She quieted down as abruptly as she’d started.

”No need for you to feel sorry,” Therese replied, ”You can be whatever you like. It’s your money.” Her easy remark made Carol flinch. ”But there’s one thing I must point out,” the brunette added sharply. ”I don’t do fucking.”

The car swerved dangerously close to the side of the road. ”So if that’s something you were hoping for, I’m sorry to disappoint you.” Therese looked sternly at Carol who kept her eyes strictly focused on the road ahead.

”Good god, no!” Carol exclaimed once she'd gotten over Therese’s straightforwardness. ”Of course not, I have no such intentions whatsoever,” she babbled on. ”For one thing, I’m straight, I don’t have sex with women so you won’t have to worry about it at all.”

Therese shot an amused glance at Carol. ”Why on earth did you hire a female escort then if you are straight?” she asked her radiant eyes measuring Carol’s apparent uneasiness.

”This party we're going to is for women only, and I am more or less the guest of honor - well, after the birthday girl, that is… I will also be the only straight woman,” Carol explained a bit calmer now. ”I don’t want to appear single and thus _available_ , you know?”

Relaxed, Therese straightened her blouse under her jacket. ”I think I do.” She was quiet for a while clearly pondering what Carol had just said. ”So what is it exactly that you expect from me?” she asked intrigued.

”I was hoping… if it would be okay with you… that you could be by my side at all times?” Carol suggested cautiously, ”And never let me out of your sight, if possible?” There was one more detail she had to add. ”Also you’d need to make it look believable…” Embarrassed, she drew a quick breath.

”Believable in what way?” Therese asked curiously. Her eyes were burning a hole on Carol even though she wasn’t even looking at her paid companion.

”Well…” Carol started awkwardly, ”Maybe get them to think that you’re in lo… that you like me a lot.” _Could this be any more uncomfortable?_ rushed through her mind.

Therese let her request sink in before answering with an unwavering voice. ”It will be my pleasure.”

* * *

”Welcome, honey!” Abby wasted no time rushing towards Carol’s car as it finally reached its destination. It was obvious her enthusiasm had very little to do with her best friend but everything to do with the young, brown-haired woman who got slowly out of the car to stretch her legs.

Therese looked around already impressed by what her eyes witnessed. The Gerhard family estate was a sight to behold. Built by Abby’s great grandfather in 1914, the magnificent main house was everything the elaborate wrought iron gates had earlier already hinted at.

”Do introduce me to your friend, darling,” Abby coaxed Carol forcing her to perform the formalities asap.

”Therese,” Carol started suddenly realizing she had no idea of her last name, ”Meet Abigail Gerhard, my best friend I’ve told you so much about…” She cast a meaningful glance at Therese who nodded at Abby. ”Abby, meet Therese…” Her sentence was cut short.

”…of whom I haven’t heard a thing so far!” Abby completed shooting daggers at Carol. ”What was your name again, dear? Theresa?” Linking arms with both Carol and Therese, Abby led them towards the front door.

”Therese.” The brunette smiled back. ”Therese Belivet.” Carol breathed a sigh of relief.

”What a lovely name!” Abby gasped joyously. ”What kind of a name is Belivet… French?” she asked wanting to make conversation.

”It’s Czech, actually,” Therese replied becoming increasingly aware of the interest her presence seemed to awaken not only in her gracious hostess but in other guests as well.

”Oh, please, Abby, leave poor Therese alone, she only just got here,” Carol said letting out a disconcerting laugh. ”Spare the third degree, darling, at least for now.” She also became alarmed by her own action while reproaching her all too curious friend – she had grabbed Therese’s arm tenderly, which hadn’t escaped anyone’s attention. Afraid to face her companion’s undoubtedly amused gaze, Carol didn’t know what to do next.

”Hello, Carol.” Carol recognized the soft speaking, honey-oozing voice all too well. _Megan_. ”I’m so thrilled to see you…” _Apparently that woman doesn’t take no for an answer either_ , Carol mused halfheartedly. ”Who’s your friend again? The girl next door?” Megan seemed to find her own quip very funny – luckily she was the only one.

Just as Carol was starting to feel helplessly defeated again, she felt a pair of slender arms circle her narrow waist from behind. ”Baby…” spoke the gentle voice belonging to one Therese Belivet of Czech origin, ”I think we should take our stuff to our room, what’ll you say? Take a nap… or… just lie down for a sec?” The brunette winked her eye suggestively at Carol. She pulled her close and pressed a sweet, lingering kiss on her lips. Cupping Carol’s face, she seemed to guess the blonde head would droop on one side without the firm hold of her hands.

”Ahem…” Abby coughed after a relatively lengthy silence. ”This promises to be a _marvelous_ weekend already.”          


	3. Blind Cougars

”So what’s up next?” Therese asked as they’d made it into the safety of their assigned room.

She was lounging in an easy chair dangling her feet over the armrest. She’d picked up an apple from a gift basket placed in the middle of the coffee table in front of a fireplace. ”I feel like I’ve arrived at some fancy inn instead of a private home.”

Watching Therese sink her pearly teeth in the polished surface of a red delicious, Carol felt light-headed and seriously out of place. Only a moment ago they’d ascended the stairs all eyes peeled on their rear ends. Carrying her suitcase on her right hand, Therese had had her left one on the small of Carol’s back. Her palm had pressed her waist delicately, yet determinedly enough to remind Carol to put one foot after another in calm, steady succession. Once they’d been out of the prying sight, Therese had withdrawn her hand.

”Knowing Abby, there’s probably a printed programme somewhere,” Carol said opening her luggage. A black, lace-trim slip fell out of it as she struggled to turn the suitcase around with its top half open.

”Yeah, you’re right,” Therese confirmed picking up an ornamented sheet of paper lodged between two bananas and a kiwi. Instead of reading it right away she hopped on her feet and reached for the chilled bottle of champagne waiting in a silver cooler. ”How about some bubbly… _Carol_?” Therese’s smile was distinctly sly yet Carol couldn’t really fault her for it. She had given if not an outright false at least a misleading name at first, and it had taken her some time to explain it away in their initial phone conversation.

”Not a biggie,” Therese had summed up calmly. ”We all feel the need to shield our true identity every once in a while. Even from ourselves.” Carol recalled her acknowledgement vividly as she accepted the sparkling flute Therese handed out to her.

”Aperitifs at seven in the parlour,” Therese read from the programme, ”and dinner at 8.30…” She glanced at her watch. ”We don’t have a lot of time if we really need to tog it up. Want to use the bathroom first?” As if assessing Carol from head to toe, she sank back in the chair clearly enjoying her drink.

”Sure.” Reluctantly Carol placed her almost untouched champagne glass on the mantelpiece and picked up her necessities. A luxuriously thick guest towel folded on her arm, she stepped inside the opulent, lapis blue-tiled washroom that resembled more a private spa than a bathroom. She closed the door behind her.

The spray of warm water soothing her naked body, she stood under the shower her eyes rapturously closed. Wiping the water out of her hair and face she noticed how the mirror in front of her gave an unrestricted view of the bathroom door. To her great surprise it appeared to be slightly ajar.

Wrapped in a mere towel, she suddenly hesitated to join Therese in the other room. Cursing her childishness, she mustered up her courage and walked right in. The moment she dared to glance at Therese, an eager knock landed on the door. Therese, who was waiting for her turn in the shower wearing only a dress shirt over her burgundy bra and panties, sprang into action. Getting rid of her shirt and bra she pulled the cover off of the king size bed and mouthed a silent order for Carol to obey:

> _BETWEEN THE SHEETS, NOW_.

As if in a trance Carol did what was asked of her and slid in bed with the towel still on. Therese yanked it forcefully away causing Carol to yelp with surprise. Having dropped it on the floor on her side of the bed, she proceeded to slightly rumple the sheets they were now hiding under.

”I know you’re in there,” Abby laughed wholeheartedly, ”I can hear you breathing not to mention _the other stuff_ …” She waited a little while. ”Are you guys decent? Can I come in?” The door handle was being pushed down. Carol closed her eyes for a quick second. She had no idea how she would pull this one off.

”Oh, I’m sorry…” Abby did sound a bit embarrassed but she made no attempt to look the other way when she saw her friend in bed with a beautiful stranger. ”Seeing you two lovebirds…” she started shaking her head lovingly. Staring breathlessly at Abby, Carol felt Therese’s lips graze her bare shoulder, the beads of water still on its smooth surface. ”…it feels more like Christmas than a birthday to me!”

_What was I thinking coming up with this charade?_ Carol lamented feeling guilty about deceiving her dearest friend. _Of all the cockeyed ideas I’ve ever had this has got to be the most ridiculous ever_. Therese being so very close again had a much more serious effect on Carol than the incident downstairs. When the young woman’s heated skin brushed against hers, the silky hairs on Carol’s neck, back and arms stood up and quivered in the current of static electricity.

Confused, Carol felt paralyzed, both in and out of her body at the same time. A part of her levitated far above the three of them, watching and analysing each word, move and gesture. _I don’t belong to this set-up_ , Carol told herself convinced by the floating, inexplicable weightlessness of her demure denial. On the other hand she was solidly anchored in the situation at hand, palpably present in more ways than she was willing to admit.

“Anyway, I just wanted to steal a moment alone with you and just…” Stopping abruptly, Abby ran her hand through her auburn hair, “…just gawk at you in peace and quiet! Carol – I had no idea. How can you keep something like this from me?” She looked at her both amused and hurt, the latter emotion shadowing the quizzical smile on her lips.

“I’m sorry, Abby,” Carol started already crushed by regret, “I think I owe you an explanation…” Before she could continue, Therese cut in.

“We most definitely do,” she spoke briskly taking over the conversation once and for all. Fussing momentarily over the sheet that was barely covering Carol, Therese strengthened her hold of her naked body. “This is such a new thing for both of us, and I guess we’ve both been reluctant to tell anybody just yet.” She gazed at Carol in a way that could’ve been described as deeply loving.

“Didn’t want to jinx it, you know?” she admitted aiming an adorable look at their hostess. “I even thought it might be too early for me to come here but I just couldn’t say no to her…” Therese mussed Carol’s hair and placed a tiny kiss on her unsuspecting neck. “I mean _who_ could say no to this woman? She’s truly worth her weight in gold.” The last sentence was enough to snap Carol out of the obscure stupor Therese’s touch had lulled her into.

Listening to Therese’s willing confession, Abby seemed to relax a bit. “When did you meet, if I may ask? And where?” Carol wasn’t at all ready to answer any detailed questions.

“A couple of weeks ago, I think,” Therese revealed pensively. “On one of those online services,” she added truthfully. “I’d say we both knew right away what we were getting into, didn’t we, sweetie?”

The green, playful light of Therese’s eyes didn’t distract Carol this time. “Yes… darling,” she confirmed her heavy heart gradually resuming its earlier, normal pace. Carol felt suddenly exposed and almost humiliated although she didn’t understand why – she had indeed brought all of it upon herself. She inched away unnoticeably but just enough for Therese to take a hint. She let go of Carol under the sheets.

* * *

A mishmash of clinking crystals, laughter and unnecessarily loud parlance greeted them as they entered the parlour. Once again Carol admired the tasteful elegance the interior of the three-storied limestone house exuded in abundance. Abby fitted right in as well as her significant other Genevieve who’d made a name for herself as a successful downtown gallery owner. Carol enjoyed both of their company and had it been just the three of them, she could’ve very well picked up a book from one of the numerous shelves encircling the room and become absorbed in it without any objections.

”Wouldn’t you just love to take up one of those leather-bound volumes and retire to your room to read?” Therese muttered to Carol under her breath. She looked stunning in her beautiful black gown with a generous neckline. Her hair was done up in sleek fashion allowing her long flawless neck to draw the attention it most certainly deserved.

Carol had refrained from studying her appearance in any further detail but now she felt compelled to look at her. Maybe she had read too much into it but she’d found their rapport rather strained after Abby’s departure. Therese had taken a quick shower and afterwards they’d gotten themselves ready without a word exchanged.

“Let me introduce you to the ladies,” Abby said mostly to Therese after getting them drinks. “This is my Gen…” A tall woman with a sandy coloured hair flashed a perfect set of shiny teeth as she extended her hand to Therese who smiled graciously back. “Kim and Sandra – I’ll leave the proper introductions to you…” Kim’s eyes dropped to Therese’s cleavage, which made Sandra cough vocally. “And you’ve met Megan already…” Quick to focus on Carol alone, the redhead hardly glanced at Therese.

“Carol darling, we really ought to catch up,” Megan purred taking a step closer, “where were we the last time we talked?” She attempted to pull her apart from the rest of the women scurrying around. _In the toilet_ , Carol recalled begrudgingly.  

“I think you should catch up with the bartender over there,” Therese interrupted, “Your glass is empty and I’m sure the birthday girl could use a refill as well.” Anyone could see Abby had hardly tasted her Cosmo. “Baby,” she said softening her voice to Carol, “Help me do the rounds with all these people… you know how terrible I am with faces and names.” Nodding politely to Megan, she ushered Carol to move along.

“Thank you…” Carol mumbled when they were finally out of earshot. “This was the second time already you managed to save me from her clutches.” She was very grateful, and she didn’t mind showing it.

“So she’s the real reason I’m here?” Therese asked somewhat amused. “To thwart the advances of one sex-crazed cougar suffering from a severe case of red-green colour blindness?”

_Cougar_. Carol couldn’t help but shudder at the word. “Red, green… what do you mean?” _Can’t I really take care of myself?_

“As in traffic lights – red light, stop – green light, move forward,” Therese explained, “She, however, seems to have the signals all mixed up. Your stop sign only eggs her on.” They had stopped next to the terrace doors. “Do you think we could step outside for a while?”

They entered the lovely manicured garden behind the main building and strolled leisurely around an inactive lily-shaped fountain. “Too bad it’s not working,” Therese commented after a weighted silence. “It’s a waste of its existence not having it do its duty.” Not caring one bit about her dress, she sat on the edge of it and dipped her hand in the still water.

“Waste of existence…” Carol repeated after her. “The Sartre quote makes me wonder if you find gatherings such as this a waste of your time?” The hand breaking the surface of the pond slowed down but only momentarily. “Why did you ask if I had made the right choice?” Therese’s initial question had bothered her all this time.

“Let’s just say a quote like that doesn’t exactly attract clients.” Therese pulled her hand out and shook it dry. “The agency isn’t too hot about it either.”

“Why do you have it there then?” Carol was now even more interested to hear her motives.

“For that very reason,” Therese said in a manner that deflected any further inquiry. “Look, you don’t know me and I prefer to keep it that way. You’re ready to pay ten grand to get some arrogant bitch off your back, which basically boggles my mind, but I’m not going to presume a damn thing about you either, okay?”

She drew a calming breath and glanced back at the house. “Sorry…” she continued soon after, “I didn’t mean to get all worked up about it… I will do my best to help you, I hate people like her giving a bad name for the rest of us.” Her voice was cordial, even apologetic.

“The rest of you? What do you mean?” Carol had to ask. What on earth could Megan have in common with someone like Therese?

“Well, the lesbians, of course,” Therese replied willingly. She was quick to notice the surprise on Carol’s face. “What? You thought I was straight as well? Whatever gave you that idea?” Embarrassed, Carol averted her eyes. It wasn’t as if she’d pegged her as straight, she just hadn’t thought of her as gay either. “Did you think I’m not a dyke because I said I wouldn’t fuck you?” Therese asked sharply. “Because if I did, that would indicate me as being one, right? Carol Aird, you have a lot to learn - and not just about the adult entertainment business,” she scoffed and strode across the lawn towards the glass doors.


	4. Pack of Wolves

”You left me alone!” Carol hissed between her teeth as she and Therese sat down at the dinner table.

“Relax, I kept my eye on you all the time,” Therese replied unfazed by her hurtful tone. “I had to check out the seating plan to see if it’d been rigged…” She lowered her voice further. “It was so I rigged it right back.” She tapped the white tablecloth with her index finger – it pointed at Megan who was sitting on the other side of the table. She wasn’t a happy camper. In fact she was seething with suppressed anger. “I was supposed to sit over there.”

Realizing the close shave she'd just had, Carol gulped. “Thank you…” was all she managed to mumble in return.

“Don’t mention it,” Therese replied focusing her attention on Megan instead. _If looks could kill, both women would be decimated in a matter of seconds_ , occurred to Carol. _She’s just doing her job_ , she thought stealing a look at Therese. _The things she must’ve seen in her life_.

“What is this?” Abby questioned seeing them next to each other in the dinner table. “I’m quite sure I placed Lauren right next to Carol, not you, _lover girl_ …” Being the woman of the hour, Abby was the only one to get away with a quip like that.

Wrapping her left hand around Carol, Therese flashed a wicked smile. “Never gonna happen.” Her right palm landed on Carol’s thigh and gave it a noticeable squeeze. At least Abby and Carol were paying attention. “If you don’t mind…”

Shooting a bemused glance at her friend, Abby was clearly taken aback by Therese’s lewd gesture. “Whatever you say, my dear,” she capitulated as if knowing it would be futile to push any agenda with her, let alone one dealing with a seating plan.    

Carol stared at the plate and the silverware in front of her shockingly aware of Therese, of her hand, her perfume and the sweet cloud of surrender it seemed to waft over those who crossed her path. She studied the dish adorned with the Gerhard family emblem and found solace in the unpretentious elegance it displayed. Seeing the distinguished cutlery in its proper place had such a sobering effect on her agitated mind she managed to bring the water glass on her lips without spilling a single drop in the process. _There’s comfort to be taken in orderly things_ , she thought solemnly. When Therese finally removed her hand from her lap, she breathed a sigh of relief and she was happy to do so – even if it was tinged with something resembling sadness.

* * *

Soon after the waiters brought the first course in. Each guest was presented with an entire, boiled globe artichoke and a small bowl of butter sauce accentuated with parmesan and lemon. It was simplicity itself but a fitting one – “Only to whet our appetites for what’s to come after,” Abby explained raising her glass of Sauvignon blanc.

“I love this South African one you’ve come up with, darling,” Megan complimented Abby, “As we _all_ certainly know, artichokes are notorious psycho wine killers.” Glaring at Therese, she pulled off one of the outer leaves of her green globe and stuck it into the hot butter.

“Funny she should use the word _psycho_ …” Therese whispered to Carol paying close attention to the way Megan hollowed the juicy leaf with one angry suck. Seeing the green debris pile up on the redhead’s plate, Carol snorted at Therese’s witty remark. She felt relatively safe sitting next to her, at least for now.

“How’s one supposed to eat… _this_?” Therese asked quietly after Abby had launched into an impromptu and rather uncalled-for lecture on her choices of wines for the night.

“You pick a leaf like this,” Carol replied discreetly pulling one off of her vegetable. “Then you dip the broken end into the sauce and _voilà_ …” The green petal vanished inside her mouth only to reappear the next moment. Furrowing her brow, Therese looked nonplussed.

“Here, let me help you…” Carol continued empathizing with her companion’s hesitation. She pulled out another leaf and prepared it for Therese. “Open your mouth,” she asked kindly, “take it between your teeth ever so gently and use them to nibble the flesh off the bottom…” The buttery nugget slid inside Therese’s mouth almost drawing Carol’s fingers in with it.

The tips of Carol’s thumb and forefinger bumped against Therese’s lips but she managed to hold on to the leaf nevertheless. “Now let me pull it out slowly while you suck out the juicy part, okay?” Therese’s eyes smiled as she nodded her agreement. She finished the task gazing at Carol all the way through.

“How _adorable_ …” Megan retorted viciously, “Anyone got a bib? I think we’ll need one once the _sugar mama_ starts spoon-feeding her young.” Carol flinched at the sheer venom of her words.

“Megan!” Abby interjected appalled by such an undeserved insult. Visibly shaken, Carol got up and left the room in haste. Tears were stinging her eyes but she was sure as hell not going to break down before Megan and her like.

As Abby was about to follow her, Therese stood up and motioned her to sit down. Before she hurried after Carol, she cast a furious glance at Megan who didn’t seem affected in any way by what had just happened.

* * *

“Carol? Are you okay?” Therese found her standing by the terrace doors in the parlour. Carol was looking out her vision distorted by both her tears and the hand-blown glass panes.

“Did you know that all the dubious food that demands ridiculous amount of effort to be consumed – like digging snails out of their shells or extracting juicy tidbits out of plumb leaves – was never something the poor people opted for?” Carol said trying to keep her voice level.

“No, I didn’t.” Therese replied simply.

“The poor never had the time to dillydally with their food, they wanted it hearty and as plentiful as possible,” Carol continued. “Only the rich could afford spending countless hours in something as frivolous as that.” She sounded bitter and angry. “And still we seem to have far too much time in our hands.”

“I did like that leaf though,” Therese said taking a step closer. “Before tonight my idea of an artichoke was limited to those pale lumps swimming in brine.” She was finally standing next to Carol. “I like to learn new things. Thank you for showing me what a marvel a small green petal can be.” She smiled warmly at Carol who only now felt brave enough to meet her gaze.

The lights turned dim and void of previous hurly-burly, the parlour was an enchanting place. _Time has stopped here_ , Carol mused, _it has become redundant_. When she looked at Therese running her fingers over the spines of the endless rows of books, she thought she saw something timeless in her as well. Therese was not in a hurry to go anywhere. She was perfectly at ease with the present, so completely focused on the moment at hand it left an indelible, delightful mark on Carol. She didn’t recognize it as an epiphany of any kind, only as a burning wish to know more about her. Much more.

“I guess we ought to return to the table,” Carol spoke knowing their absence to be far too conspicuous by now. She was repelled by the idea but she knew it couldn’t be avoided. Therese, however, was quick to catch the hesitation on her face.

“You must not let her get to you like that,” Therese said softly. “As long as she smells blood, she’ll keep attacking you till you cave in.” Puzzled, Carol didn’t know how to take her assessment of the nightmarish situation.

“Let me put it this way: imagine that we are dealing with a pack of wolves here,” Therese elaborated, “a pack of she-wolves who have all pretty much slept with one another, right?” Carol didn’t know for sure but according to Abby’s past, racy recollections something like that might have very well happened. She acquiesced to nod.

“Our beloved Megan here is an alpha, and she yields a considerable power over the other ladies,” Therese continued, “That’s why hardly anyone has stepped in to protect you so far.” Smirking, she tilted her head to one side as if to make a quick estimate of Carol.

“You’re an alpha as well, make no mistake about it,” Therese stated grinning unabashedly. “At the risk of getting my bestial metaphors hopelessly mixed, I’d say you are a lioness and your presence is a threat for someone like Megan. She wants her women housebroken.”

Carol opened her mouth to object but failed to come up with anything worth saying. Therese, on the other hand, was all too eager to continue. “We need to tip the balance here,” she pointed out taking a first step towards the dining room, “and we will – you just need to trust me with this one.” Noticing how Carol made no attempt to follow, Therese extended her hand to her. “Are you coming?” Their fingers met, prepared the way for their palms to fuse definitively.

“What about you?” Carol asked apprehensively as they approached the noise of the dining room. “Are you an alpha as well?” She knew her question was far too personal yet she had to ask it.

“I don’t subscribe to that dynamic,” Therese said determinedly. “Or to any kind of herd mentality for that matter.” She paused for a second. “Not anymore.” Another skipped beat. “Being a lone wolf has its perks,” Therese murmured giving Carol’s hand a provocative squeeze.      

* * *

The dinner went on without further interruptions. A ceasefire of a sort had been evidently negotiated while Carol and Therese had had their private moment in the parlour. The Lobster Thermidor prepared by Abby’s long time chef or rather surrogate mother, as Margaret herself never quit reminding her, mellowed the tongues as well with its impressively elegant, refined aromas.

“So, Therese, tell us a little bit about yourself,” Genevieve initiated her brown eyes lit with kind interest. “What is it that you do exactly?” Leaning forward to hear better, she gave Carol an encouraging smile.

“I study photography,” Therese replied courteously, “I have two more years to go, and then I’m hoping to find work in the field and maybe an opportunity to showcase my more ambitious stuff as well.” She picked up her goblet of wine to enjoy a generous mouthful of Bandol rosé.

“Have you already exhibited your work?” Genevieve asked raising her eyebrows. “You look awfully familiar…” she continued pensively.

“No, I haven’t,” Therese was quick to clarify, “I haven’t even put together a decent portfolio yet although I do have a lot of material to choose from.” She seemed eager to concentrate on her lobster claws but Genevieve wasn’t done with her yet.

“I could swear I’ve seen you somewhere…” Gen insisted, “It’s almost like I _know_ you from some previous occasion.” She turned to Abby. “Say something, honey, doesn’t she look familiar?”

Downing her Chablis, Abby shook her head and patted Gen’s hand. “Beats me, baby.” She, for one, had no recollection of ever having had the pleasure of bumping into Therese Belivet before this very evening.

“I hardly ever forget a face, least of all one so soulful and stunning,” Gen said wistfully, “but I guess I’ll have to rely on the good old subconscious to do its work…” She kept staring at Therese as if the answer to her riddle could be readily derived out of the classic features of her fair face.

Carol had followed their conversation with growing trepidation. Gen’s prying into Therese’s private life had already been troubling enough but her stubborn insistence of recognizing her by some earlier happenstance sent her reeling with worry. Besides Therese wasn’t taking this intrusion to her privacy well at all. Luckily their dialogue hadn’t attracted all that much interest among the rest of the women, Carol noted with relief. At least Megan seemed to be enjoying a light-hearted chitchat with her ex-lover Sandra. _Megan. She would have a field day with Therese’s real identity should it be revealed with all of us here_.

* * *

“Listen, everybody!” Abby tapped her glass with a spoon at the end of the dinner.

“Speech! Speech!” The women roared fuelled by their intoxicated spirits. Knotting her brow in mock disapproval, Abby raised her hands to quiet everybody down.

“I am not going to give a speech nor is anyone else for that matter,” she declared in her gregarious manner. “What we are going to do now is to retire to the salon for…” She waved her hands in the air like a conductor coaxing a crescendo out of her fine-tuned orchestra.

“PARTY GAMES!” The choir of inebriated women exclaimed in unison.

Carol looked at Therese and for the first time that night she saw a faint glimmer of fear in those dark green eyes.

_Shit_.


	5. Empress of the Night

The other guests had already assembled in the salon when Carol and Therese walked in. The women had chosen to sit next to their respective partners the only exception being Megan who occupied a plush armchair right next to the host couple. The only available chair looked comfortable enough but compared to the one Megan was hogging all to herself it was minuscule at best.

“Sit on my lap,” Therese murmured to Carol as she sat down on its soft yet sturdy cushion. Not bothering to wait for a reply, she pulled her on top of her and circled her arms around her waist. It certainly wasn’t what Carol had had in mind but she saw no reason to resist it either. Therese was petite and thus hardly the most suited person physically to cradle a woman of Carol’s size in her arms.

To her own surprise, Carol was able to relax and to even enjoy the intimate closeness they’d been more or less forced into. She wished she could have seen Therese but the way she was pressed against the brunette’s lap made it impossible. She did feel her hands, the warmth of her palms on her ribs as they moved across the fabric of her dress in one continuous, absentminded caress.

A coffee table with twelve shot glasses was set in the middle of the floor. Even though Ruth and Alice, the seniors of tonight’s gathering, had already retired to their room for the night, there was still a dirty dozen left to enjoy what was left of Friday.

“Okay, I know some of you have played this before,” Abby admitted, “and even with me,” she snorted, “but I thought ‘what the heck, let’s give it another try’…” Her speech was already slightly slurred, which was starting to grate on Genevieve's nerves.

“Honey, have some water,” she reminded Abby, “I’m sure you don’t want this night to end too abruptly, do you?”

Irritated, Abby pretended she hadn’t heard a thing. “We’re going to start out by playing ‘Never Have I Ever’…” She shot an amused look around the room to see if everyone approved.

“What is this?” Leaning all the way back, Carol was able to whisper her question right into Therese’s ear.

“It’s a stupid-ass game where you’re supposed to claim some outrageous thing you yourself have never done in hopes of that some other schmuck in the room actually has.” Listening to her explanation, Carol felt Therese’s breath warm her cheek. “If someone has done it, she must down a shot. If no one has, the speaker drinks.”    

Carol looked at Therese who seemed distressed by what was about to happen. For a quick second she forgot about the silly game, the glasses filled to the brim with ice-cold vodka, the worrisome way in which Abby behaved already for she couldn’t help but wonder what went on behind Therese’s tentative frown, her viridescent eyes that stubbornly withheld the smile Carol had seen only glimpses of.

“Well, this should be relatively easy then,” Carol murmured back. “I haven’t really done anything – at least not anything risqué if that’s what this is supposed to be.”

Turning her head slightly on one side, Therese was clearly amused. “Now that would be a grave mistake,” she mumbled, “Don’t forget that we’ve been together for a couple of weeks already and we haven’t been acting all too chastely either.” Her hands slid down Carol’s sides making them quiver unnoticeably. “When someone says something referring to lesbian sex, I will pinch your ass, okay? That way you will know when to raise your hand…” A test pinch startled Carol but not because it was too hard or anything like that. It was a perfect, soft nip designed to awaken not hurt.

* * *

Maura, Abby’s old basketball pal, was to go first. “Never have I ever… had sex in the car watching a drive-in movie.” Only three hands shot up – Lauren’s, Genevieve’s and to Therese’s big surprise, Carol’s.

“It’s their straight past shining through here…” Megan belittled. “Nothing any of us gold star dykes know about,” she scoffed contemptuously.

“Hey, hey, hey…” Abby interrupted, “Don’t you go putting down drive-in car sex – I’ve had sex there as well, I just wasn’t watching the movie!” She burst out in hearty laughter.

“You are splitting hairs, dear Abigail,” Maura scolded her. “Have a shot – all _four_ of you!” The women in question reached for their glasses and downed them in one glug. Only a squint of an eye gave away the strong content of Carol’s drink whereas the others took their time to shudder out of the effect the vodka had on their taste buds.

“Never have I ever…” Lauren started making up her claim as she went along, “…been eaten in my office… during office hours.” Therese pinched Carol’s ass, and as her hand went up, Therese extended hers as well.

“My, my, my…” Megan snarled after having acknowledged her penchant for semi-public oral sex, “I’m going to have to rethink my decision to buy that chaise longue from your shop, Abby darling.” She placed her wine glass on the side table. “I’m afraid your business partner may have ruined its delicate exterior while you’ve been away.”

By now, Abby’s reaction time was slowed down to the extent that she paid no attention to what Megan or anyone else was saying. Somehow she did remember to queue up for the shot she was doomed to have.

“I could’ve had oral sex at work with my ex-husband, you know?” Carol whispered to Therese. She wasn’t _that_ innocent after all. “And why is it so bloody important to claim that _we’ve_ done it?”

Therese stared at her curiously. “So have you?”

“Have I what?” Carol asked impatiently.

“Have you had oral sex at work with your ex during office hours?” Therese held her gaze stubbornly.

“Well… no, but that’s hardly the point…” Carol whispered hastily only to be interrupted by Therese.

“But it _is_ the point,” Therese explained patiently. “You see… if we _were_ a couple and we’d known each other for only a few weeks so far, we would’ve already done it _everywhere_ and in _every_ possible way.” She winked her eye at Carol who felt suddenly overwhelmed by this new information. “Believe me, I know what I’m talking about, and when I do, it’s better to stay as close to the _alleged_ truth as possible.”

She tried to lift Carol up to go with her to get their shots but the blonde woman didn’t budge. “You’re trembling. Do you need a shawl?” Therese asked worried. Carol shook her head and slowly pushed herself up to accept the shot glass Lauren was all too eager to offer.

* * *

Soon it became very evident that the star of the evening wasn’t going to shine for too long. As a matter fact it had been obvious already for some time that the twinkle in Abby’s eyes had grown dim with the fifth shot she’d foolhardily consumed.

“Abby doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘never’, “ complained Genevieve when the birthday girl had finally passed out in her favourite easy chair. “There isn’t a lot she hasn’t at least tried once so even when it’s her turn to utter that stupid sentence, it’s usually she who ends up doing the drinking. “ Carol was sorry to see Gen so displeased but a part of her was also relieved that the night had finally come to its end.

“We’ll help you to get her upstairs,” Carol suggested to Gen who was only too grateful to accept her offer. “It’s late and I think we both really need to go to bed as well.”

Amused, Gen wiggled her eyebrows. _“Never have I ever had sex in a mansion in the Hudson Valley?”_ Her words were followed by a spurt of laughter. “Oh but no – Abby already caught you in the act, didn’t she?” Genevieve’s mischievous eyes darted from Carol to Therese and back.    

Carol couldn’t help but blush. The tension she’d experienced through the entire evening due to Megan’s rudeness, the unfathomable effect Therese had had on her – to have it all somehow connected with her simple wish to sleep – _not as in sleep together but as in close one’s eyes and forget this day ever happened_ , she reminded herself - was just too much to digest.  

“Yeah, it is late,” Therese confirmed. “Let’s get Abby in her bed first and then, baby, it’s time for us to hop into ours.”

* * *

The room was dark when they opened its door, only the moon lending its glow on the desk, the floor and the bed in one silvery sliver. Therese walked over to the window to gaze outside, and the sight of her made Carol forget any inclination to turn the light on.

“Come and see,” Therese said to Carol, and the private little smile that played in the corners of her mouth was more magnificent than the moon Carol was invited to meet. “This is the place for it, don’t you think?” The question made hardly sense to Carol.

“Place for what?” she asked suspiciously.

“The Longfellow’s moon,” Therese grinned knowing very well that she was being obscure at best.

Bemused, Carol smiled back. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more specific...” Somehow she knew this was the answer Therese had been waiting for.

“Look at the garden, the stairs, the stone walls ahead…” Therese put her arm around Carol’s shoulders and brought her next to her. “See the billowy clouds?” Carol was captivated by what she saw – next to her. “Okay, here it goes…”  

  

> _As a pale phantom with a lamp_
> 
> _Ascends some ruin's haunted stair,_
> 
> _So glides the moon along the damp_
> 
> _Mysterious chambers of the air._
> 
> _Now hidden in cloud, and now revealed,_
> 
> _As if this phantom, full of pain,_
> 
> _Were by the crumbling walls concealed,_
> 
> _And at the windows seen again._
> 
> _Until at last, serene and proud_
> 
> _In all the splendor of her light,_
> 
> _She walks the terraces of cloud,_
> 
> _Supreme as Empress of the Night…_

 

Therese came alive before Carol’s eyes in a way she hadn’t thought possible. She was in her element giving Carol a glimpse of the inner life no money could buy or bribe. _You are a phantom_ , occurred to Carol, _mysterious and full of… pain?_ An urge to reach out, to ask and to understand, to tell and to be told in words and silences, in equal amounts yet always in excess speared her then and there.

“Supreme as Empress of the Night…” Therese repeated wistfully. “I think it’s time…” she said looking at Carol, “to wish good night to our celestial alpha.” She removed her hand that had both held Carol together and torn her splendidly asunder. Therese took her toothbrush but just as she was about to enter the bathroom she turned once more to speak to Carol: 

“I’ll take the sofa.”


	6. Close Encounters

When Carol had finished in the bathroom she found Therese already lying on the sofa, huddled under the extra blanket she’d pulled out of one of the cabinets next to the door. Her hair loose, released from the tight knot it had been drawn into, she rested her head on the thick pillow she’d removed from the bed. Her eyes were open and alert, keen to follow Carol as she took the needed steps across the room.  

Missing its other feathery cushion, the large four-poster looked asymmetrical and incomplete, Carol mused as she crawled under the covers. _It is wrong to have the entire bed all to myself_ , she thought, _nothing short of selfish and greedy_.

“You don’t have to sleep over there,” she said to Therese hoping to sound calm and carefree. “There’s plenty of room for two in here, and I’d hate for you to have a stiff neck in the morning.”

“Thanks but I’m a restless sleeper,” Therese replied softly. “I don’t mind it here – especially since I’m not used to sleeping next to another person.” Her mind was obviously made up. “Good night, Carol.” She adjusted her position once more and closed her eyes.

_Good night_. Carol suppressed a sigh and turned off the light on the nightstand. She stared at the ceiling suddenly convinced of her inability to relax at all, to let the sweet oblivion take over as it normally did with ease.

* * *

The weak beams of the Longfellow moon still flickering around the room, Carol finally did fall into a heavy sleep – a sleep so deep it resembled being planted in the ground like a tuber of her favorite flower, the peony. 

The dream lay thick yet fragrant over Carol sprouting its stems higher and stronger until it broke the shell of her irresolute mind. She felt exposed and bereft, abandoned by her familiar wish to remain solid like the soil she had come to know and cling to. She remained that way for an indefinite amount of time.    

As she lay on her side, she sensed a touch through the haze of her dream, an embrace that lit up the filament of her body. Or maybe it wasn't her body at all but rather a promise or a beginning, a bud that sought its way out? Whatever she was experiencing, it wasn’t enough to yank her out of her slumber. Carol needed to let out an echo to link her mind with the dust she was made of but what broke out was a soft cry instead, a longing to surge upwards, higher and faster with the knowledge of a bloom that was to follow.

Hers became an adventitious flower, exotic and insistent. A pale pink it was in Carol's dream, compound and deeply lobed, and far too heavy for its timid stock. She felt a subtle brush sneaking up on her, and with it a sweet sensation of certitude, a readiness to succumb and to conquer, to hold her own in the bold breeze that made her quiver.

The line between the dream and her conscious mind blurred further, it ballooned to unity Carol found appealing. The second she started to question it, to see the inconsistencies in the pattern of her languid realm the elements already repelled one another. The gap between them grew wider, and she became aware of who she was. Carol opened her eyes and turned around to see who was next to her. She was alone. Therese lay asleep on the sofa her back facing Carol, a blanket drawn over her like a shadow creeping up from the floor.

* * *

They joined the others for breakfast. Abby was her old jovial self with no apparent signs of a hangover. It wasn’t a surprise to Carol for she’d seen her friend thrive after many drunken soirees.  

“Once again Margaret’s worked her wonders in the kitchen so I strongly recommend you to dig in and do so heartily,” she urged the weary women flocking around the sumptuous buffet table. “Bloody Mary, anyone?” she hollered raising a pitcher of her trademark tonic for everyone to see. Her cheerful suggestion was enough to light up quite a few pairs of eyes.

Therese had been in a rather sullen mood ever since she’d woken up but the sight of food seemed to improve her mood considerably. “Can I bring you anything?” she asked Carol as she was about to get another helping of scrambled eggs and cold smoked salmon. “There aren’t many things I can accomplish at the stove but I do know how to whip up some seriously good scrambled eggs,” she confided in Carol. “I must send my compliments to Margaret for these are top class.”

Since Carol didn’t want anything Therese went to fetch her beloved eggs without further instructions. While she was away Carol sank back in her chair and sipped absentmindedly her coffee. Her dream bothered her but not in a way one might assume. When Therese had taken her turn in the bathroom, she’d decided to make the bed for the day. She was a creature of habit after all. As she was straightening the bottom sheet she noticed something on the vacant side of the mattress – a single strand of long brown hair. Carol had finished her task with no sign of distress on her face and she certainly hadn’t said a word to Therese about it when she’d returned her wet hair hidden inside a towel turban.

“I could live on scrambled eggs alone,” Therese quipped as she settled back to her seat. “Most people assume it’s a relative easy dish to make but let me assure you it’s not.” Her words were tinged with humorous self-importance. “First you take a _lot_ of butter and let it melt tenderly in the pan,” she started mimicking a celebrity chef on TV. “Only then you can add the beaten eggs in it and start stirring the mixture gently.” Noticing the distant look in Carol’s eyes she stopped. “Is everything alright?”

Carol arranged a half smile on her lips. “Yes, of course, what on earth could be the matter?” The look she gave Therese was still somewhat cryptic. “Do go on.”

Pleased, Therese continued. “It takes surprisingly long to get it right and it’s not to be attempted in a hurry.”

Emboldened by her earlier discovery, Carol quirked her right eyebrow. “Excuse me but are we still talking about scrambled eggs?”

Surprised, Therese shot a bemused look at her. “What makes you ask a question like that?”

Carol hid behind her laughter before answering. “Well, your personal _tour de force_ is a breakfast dish so I am understandably curious if it’s something you routinely serve to your… _guests?”_ She was aware that she was toeing the line between what was a proper thing to ask and what was not.

“Yes, I’ve been known to make it occasionally,” Therese replied staring intently at Carol. It was impossible to decipher whether it was an amused or chagrined gaze but it did convey a certain interest in Carol’s motive to make such a direct inquiry.

“Would you make me some if I’d ask you to?” Carol heard herself say. Once the words had slipped out of her mouth there was no way getting them back anymore.

“I thought you weren’t into… scrambled eggs,” Therese questioned still holding Carol’s full attention with the mightiest weapons in her arsenal – her piercing eyes. “You haven’t, after all, had any this morning,” she added pointing at the lack of the creamy delight on Carol’s plate.

Abby breezed in before Carol had a chance to answer. “You guys up for a game of croquet? Kim and Sandra want to play bridge and I just don’t want to waste this marvellous day sitting inside.” She looked so desperate neither Carol nor Therese had a heart to do anything other than to accommodate her wish.

“Goody!” Abby exclaimed, “We’ll play _Association_ in pairs – you two against me and Megan, okay? Michael’s already set up the court so hurry up!” Michael was Abby’s gardener.

* * *

Twenty minutes later they were standing on the lawn leaning into their mallets. Carol was a seasoned croquet player but she had no idea how Therese would measure up in this highly competitive company. She didn’t look too nervous, though.

Megan was sporting a blindingly white outfit – a broadcloth cotton shirt, its long sleeves rolled to below the elbow and a pleated skirt just above the knees. Abby was wearing shiny white slacks and a loose dress shirt with a knitted charcoal jumper wrapped over her shoulders.

Carol’s attire was as feminine as Megan’s – her ivory skirt was matched up with a white blouse and a beige cardigan. Therese who couldn’t have foreseen croquet in the weekend’s programme departed from the etiquette – black slacks and shirt were complemented with a grey jumper she had no intention of wearing if she didn’t have to.

“How refreshing…” Megan started when she saw Therese’s unorthodox outfit. “Looks like Madison Avenue has ganged up with skid row.” Luckily just one look from Abby got her to shut her mouth for now.

Carol and Therese got the black and the blue balls, Abby and Megan the red and the yellow. “No unnecessary chitchat, girls,” Abby reminded, “and let’s treat each other with respect, okay?” The last remark was specifically aimed at Megan who contented to shrug her shoulders at her friend’s request.

Megan went first succeeding to run the hoop with her first stroke. Not surprisingly, she made quite a spectacle out of her success, and it would’ve been just fine if she hadn’t followed it up by gloating over Therese’s misfortune – she messed up her start badly. Observing Therese’s moves had confirmed Carol what she had suspected: Therese didn’t know the first thing about croquet. Not that she cared one way or another – it was Megan’s vicious behavior she objected to. When it was her turn to begin, she managed not only to run the hoop but also to make a _roquet_ , to hit Megan’s ball as well. Seeing the sour look on the redhead’s face took all of Carol’s will power to keep her cool. After all she didn’t want to sink to her level. When Carol went for the famous croquet shot, she glanced at Therese. A subtle smile played on her lips, which made Carol even more proud of herself.  

Their joy was short-lived, though. Carol and Therese made an uneven pair against Abby and Megan who had had a lifetime of practice in the lawn game. Although Abby’s game improved turn after turn she went out of her way to make Therese feel comfortable with her lack of skill and finesse. When it became evident that Abby and Megan were to win the game, Megan couldn’t hold her tongue anymore. She taunted Therese at every opportune moment making her lose concentration and bungle her play.

Just as Therese was about to hit her ball one last time Megan aimed yet another chain of poorly masked insults at her. Quite by accident the wooden mallet slipped out of Therese’s hand and struck her harasser smack in the face. 

Megan screaming bloody murder was enough to alert not only the bystanders but the bridge players as well who ran across the lawn to see what had happened during “the friendly game of croquet”. Grinning unabashedly behind her injured friend’s back, Abby motioned Carol and Therese to move further away from the commotion. They were only too happy to do just that.

Out of earshot Carol burst in unrestrained laughter. “I know, I know, I’m terrible but she did have it coming,” she defended herself drying the corners of her eyes.

Still startled by what had happened, Therese let out a nervous chuckle. “It was an honest accident, I really didn’t mean to do it,” she said meekly. They had walked over to the storage building to turn their mallets and balls over to the gardener.          

“I know, darling,” Carol said trying to catch her breath. “It really wasn’t your fault but I sure as hell enjoyed seeing it happen.” It took a while for her to convince Therese that nothing truly serious had happened and that Megan would bounce back from her _close encounter_ just fine.

* * *

As they were about to head up to the main house to get ready for lunch, they saw Genevieve approaching them in a hurry. “I don’t like this,” Therese blurted out nervously, “She thinks she’s seen me somewhere and I’m afraid she’s right.” She looked around to see if there was any place for her to hide in. “As a matter of fact I know she has. I remember her too.”

Therese’s words frightened Carol but she wasn’t going to lose the battle this easily. Gen was about fifty yards away when she came up with a perfect solution. It wouldn’t thwart Gen’s advances forever but it would buy them time now, and time was what they needed.

“Therese, there’s one way to make her turn around…” Carol said quietly. It was a strike of genius but not at all an easy one to suggest to Therese, she knew.    

“What is it?” Therese asked counting seconds and peeking desperately over Carol’s shoulder.

Carol drew a long, hesitant breath. “Kiss me,” she whispered, “and I mean _really_ kiss me.”


	7. Not Worth Knowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst alert, sorry...

It took a while or rather ten yards of Gen getting closer before Therese grasped the meaning of Carol's words. Still she seemed to hesitate, to weigh the pros and cons of the action Carol had deemed necessary.

She looked frightened and, furthermore, uncertain of herself. The cocksure attitude Therese had sported only yesterday was nowhere to be found and it puzzled Carol to no end.

 _Thirty more yards and we're done for_ , ran across Carol's harried mind. It was all too crystal clear that Genevieve was coming to meet them and only them, to ask questions and to demand answers they both dreaded.

 _She's not going to kiss me, she'll rather face the consequences of Gen's imminent recognition than press her mouth against mine._ But just as Carol was about to swallow the bitter pill of her disappointment, Therese did what was asked of her.

Her hand traversing the back of Carol’s neck, lingering behind the soft curtain of her blonde hair, Therese reached for her lips. It couldn’t have been more than a heartbeat, yet the time it took for them to make it happen seemed to stem from some prodigious pocket of time. Carol tasted longing and loneliness, hope and hunger but she couldn’t tell where Therese’s ended and hers began. She felt her muscles relax then tense up again as the kiss intensified, became more demanding.

Carol had certainly been kissed before, and she knew what could come out of it – a quickening of pleasure and a need to follow it through, even a genuine affection – but she had learned that all it entailed had always not only an obvious beginning but also an imminent, clear-cut closure as well. Surely she hadn’t known how to expect anything more. Yet this one and the luscious terror it ignited in her made her tremble in Therese’s embrace.

A kiss to open the floodgates, a kiss to leave no stone unturned it was. The heated synchronized breathing following the violent clash of their mouths was more than enough to tear Carol’s resistance apart, had there ever been any to start out with. She heard the blood course through her veins, rush forward in mad acceleration, and discard everything that stood in its way. It flicked and fluttered in her brain pumping life into scenarios she hadn’t even known existed.      

When she felt the pressure of Therese’s body on hers, the mind abandoned its precious fuel and sent it down to her loins. The debris of everything conventional cast aside, drowned in one brilliant nanosecond, she gasped out of sheer need to have her right now, to give herself and never expect to be returned the way she used to be.

All of it was so palpable it had to be real, Carol thought, but when Therese abruptly let go, untangled herself from their embrace as if she’d been caught in Carol’s web, she became afraid of what she saw. Her feet shaky, Therese took a step back, then several, wiping away Carol’s lipstick from her mouth like poison she’d sipped inadvertently. Genevieve was long gone by now but even if she hadn’t respected their privacy, Carol doubted it would have influenced Therese’s behaviour in any way.

When Carol tried to move forward, Therese backed away further. “No,” she nearly shrieked, “I am not to be toyed with.” Her voice evaporated next to nothingness but Carol could still hear the last two words that escaped her lips. “Ever again.” She ran back to the main house never once looking back.

* * *

When Carol opened the front door, she got in just in time to realize that something unpleasant had just taken place in the spacious foyer. She stopped in her tracks.

There was an unknown young woman – someone who’d just arrived – standing next to Megan who had had her face bandaged after the croquet incident. The area around her nose was completely covered with only her mouth and eyes visible. The swelling was spreading all around her face making her features disproportionate and puffy.

Therese was standing at the foot of the staircase but when she saw Carol step in, she ran upstairs without a word of explanation. Abby looked at Carol sympathetically yet the look in her eyes was baffled and conflicted. Keeping her eyes glued to the floor, Genevieve was standing next to her. She was an exception, though, for all the others were focusing their full attention to Carol – and Megan.

“I’m so lucky to have Laurie here…” Megan purred patting the young woman’s behind in her customary condescending fashion. “I call her and she comes running… _free of charge_.” Something in Carol snapped and she contemplated hammering Megan’s bruised face with one of the available chairs.

“Carol…” Abby spoke and it was enough for Carol to lose her train of thought. She wasn’t however going to stay here and have a conversation with Abby before all these people. Worried what was racing through Therese’s mind, she cast a glance upstairs instead. _She needs me… I need her_ , she admitted to herself taking the steps two-by-two all the way up.

When her gentle knock wasn’t answered, she opened the door and stepped right in. Therese was throwing clothes inside her suitcase. She looked hurt and angry at the same time yet somehow managed to maintain an air of indifference as well. She flung the dress she’d worn the night before at Carol. “Here, you can keep it, it’s not like I delivered what I promised, and you still have one night left in _this house_.” The way she stressed the last two words was contemptuous to say the least.

“I don’t want it,” Carol replied quietly, “and I don’t want you to go.” She knew she couldn’t demand it of Therese but she wanted to express how she felt in spite of everything that had happened.

“I think it’s safe to say my presence by your side has been seriously compromised,” Therese scoffed rolling her eyes at Carol’s suggestion.

“If you’re leaving, I’m leaving too,” Carol said emphatically. She pulled out her suitcase and placed it on the bed.

“You’re free to do whatever you choose, it’s got nothing to do with me,” Therese replied coldly. “I will call the agency first thing Monday morning and make sure you’ll get a whopping discount. After all you didn’t get what you were clearly hoping for.”

Therese’s words stung Carol, and the lump in her throat seemed to have an effect on her tear ducts as well. “I don’t care about the money, I care about you!” Carol exclaimed breathlessly. She wanted to go to her and hold her, to stroke the soft brown hair and tell her she had nothing to be afraid of. “Don’t push me away… please,” she said instead.     

Therese was done with packing, and she had no wish to spend another minute in Abby’s mansion. Carol’s words did however stop her for a moment. Exhausted, she sat on the edge of the bed. “I can’t stay here – surely you can understand that?” Carol did understand. “I need to get the hell out of here, and I need to do it now.”

Carol had finished her packing not caring one bit if she had everything in tow. “Let me at least take you back to your apartment,” she pleaded with Therese.

“You don’t have to. I can very well just take a taxi.” Therese was being very stubborn.

“It would cost you a fortune, and I’m leaving anyway,” Carol said. “May I please drive you home?”

Therese stood up and took her time before answering. “Okay.”  

* * *

They left without any formal farewells although Abby did see them to the car. When she attempted to speak, Carol stopped her. “Don’t. I’ll see you on Monday, okay?” Nodding gravely, Abby resigned to her fate.

The drive back home was long and short at the same time. For Therese it seemed like a cruel and unusual punishment, one so relentless and excruciating she was tempted to hide her face from Carol altogether. For Carol it was over far too soon – too brief for her to start a meaningful conversation that could yield results of any substance. They remained silent.

Therese gave Carol her address in East Village and when the Aston Martin finally parked next to the curb, a feeling of panic swept over Carol like the first taste of a crushing defeat.  

“Tell your friend I’m sorry,” Therese mumbled as she was about to open her door. “She seems like a decent person and I never wanted to spoil her party.” Her eyes were weary and Carol wondered if she had cried without her noticing it.

“And you ain’t too shabby yourself either, Carol Aird,” she continued, “I’m just afraid you don’t know what it is you really want.” Therese got up to leave. “I hope you’ll figure it out.”

Suddenly Carol realised that if she didn’t find a way to tell Therese what their weekend had meant to her, she’d lose her forever. She looked for words but abandoned every one for the last thing she was after was a set of clichés.

“I do know what I want, and I have it all figured out.” She contemplated stepping outside and blocking Therese’s way out.

“What is it then?” Therese challenged fearing the outcome of Carol’s reply.

“I want to spend time with you,” Carol said candidly. “To talk to you and to get to know you.” It was easy to tell her that because it _was_ the truth.

It clearly wasn’t what Therese had expected her to say and it seemed to derail her for a second. After a while she pulled herself together to hide her momentary astonishment.

“I’m not worth knowing,” she muttered back and got out of the car.      


	8. Autoportrait

_At least I know where she lives_ , occurred to Carol as she was crossing the street to the furniture shop she and Abby ran together. It was early Monday morning, and she was hoping to catch up with some work she’d neglected the previous week. She’d spent the entire Sunday trying to make sense out of what had happened at Abby’s place.

She’d been attracted to Therese, there was no denying that, and it didn’t bother her at all. To be honest she wasn’t even surprised by it – the only surprise was the fact that she wasn’t. Carol had wanted Therese but not just in the usual way. She’d been touched by her undeniable beauty, the eloquence and the maturity she had come to personify in just a day and a half. When Carol had gotten back home Saturday night, her heart had felt heavy on her chest like a jagged rock grinding its cavity into a bloody pulp each time it risked another beat.        

It would’ve been good to have Rindy home the next morning to give her something else to think about but then again Carol doubted if her mind would’ve been able to drift too far away from the enigma of Therese. “I’m not worth knowing” rang relentlessly in Carol’s ears sending her to yet another wild goose chase of guessing and speculating as what could’ve prompted her to say a thing like that.

Carol had picked up a volume of collected poems from her bookcase and searched for the one Therese had quoted from memory. To her surprise there was more to it than what Therese had recited in their moonlit room.

 

> _I look, but recognize no more_
> 
> _Objects familiar to my view;_
> 
> _The very pathway to my door_
> 
> _Is an enchanted avenue._
> 
> _All things are changed. One mass of shade,_
> 
> _The elm-trees drop their curtains down;_
> 
> _By palace, park, and colonnade_
> 
> _I walk as in a foreign town._
> 
> _The very ground beneath my feet_
> 
> _Is clothed with a diviner air;_
> 
> _While marble paves the silent street_
> 
> _And glimmers in the empty square._
> 
> _Illusion! Underneath there lies_
> 
> _The common life of every day;_
> 
> _Only the spirit glorifies_
> 
> _With its own tints the sober gray._
> 
> _In vain we look, in vain uplift_
> 
> _Our eyes to heaven, if we are blind;_
> 
> _We see but what we have the gift_
> 
> _Of seeing; what we bring we find._

 

Carol had been tempted to read great many things to Longfellow’s rhymes left out in the moment they had shared. Still she had decided not to because whatever Therese was could hardly be explained by overlooked sentences of any kind. She had recognized the attraction Therese must have felt for the poem, though. The way things, even the most familiar ones, can be seen in a different light and how useless it is to attempt to understand anything _worth knowing_ if one is blind and unable to see it in the first place. _What we bring we find_. The last words had especially resonated with Carol who had become even more invested in her need to know more about Therese, to know _all_ about her.

To Carol’s dismay, Abby was already in the shop when she got in. “Good morning,” she greeted Carol but her usually so cheerful voice was now subdued at best.

“Morning,” Carol reciprocated heading straight to the back office. Abby followed her in.

“How are you?” Abby asked watching Carol closely as she sat down at the computer to read her emails. “I’ve been worried sick over you.” She sounded genuinely concerned.

“How could she?!“ Carol exclaimed suddenly surprising not only Abby but herself as well. “I thought Gen was my friend.”

Distressed, Abby folded her arms and took a step back. “It wasn’t Gen.” She was saddened by Carol’s hasty accusation. “As a matter of fact Gen was on her way to warn you guys when she saw you kissing outside. It was Laurie, Megan’s friend.” Sighing, she now pulled out a chair and sat on it. “She tried to stop Therese entering the house but she went in anyway.” Carol stared at Abby not knowing what to say.       

“What’s this all about, Carol?” Abby asked gently. “Were you so afraid you felt compelled to…” She couldn’t finish her sentence. “Not that she isn’t a lovely gal. At least Gen seems to think so. She met Therese when she was still with Lenny.”

_Lenny?_ Carol had no idea what Abby was talking about. “Who is he?” she asked her voice quivering with uncertainty for she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to hear Abby’s answer.

“Lenny, or Lenore, is a she,” Abby explained, “She used to be Gen’s friend – the bias being on the words _used to be_.” She picked up a box of matches and played with it absentmindedly. “When they broke up Lenny humiliated Therese in front of all her friends by telling everybody that she’s just a no good hooker she’d picked up to have some fun with.” Abby squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. “After that Gen cut all ties with Lenny. ‘There’s one rich bitch I don’t want to have anything to do with’, she told me.”

The screen Carol had been staring at just a moment ago became blurry and impossible to comprehend. The lines on her email feed fused and bumped into each other making no sense at all. She looked at her hands on the keyboard – they were shaking, tapping the black pads just enough to cause them to patter restlessly.

“Carol…” Abby started cautiously, “Why did you..?” She still didn’t have it in her to make it into a full question.

“Does it matter?” Carol whispered flooded with desperation. “I must have put her through hell,” she wailed at her friend. There was no point in hiding anything from Abby so she let it all come out. Every lovely word spoken between her and Therese, every single look that could’ve been interpreted as having some deeper meaning, the artichoke, the silly game, the poem and the hair in her bed, and above all else _the kiss_ … everything burst out of her in one tumultuous torrent of tears although it was only the tears Abby saw and heard.  

“You really like her, don’t you?” Abby said gently as she let Carol cry in her arms. What a simple truth it was to really like someone and to wish away the pain she was going through.

* * *

After work Carol drove her Aston Martin back to the neighbourhood where she had dropped Therese off. Knowing that a car like hers would likely attract attention, she parked it a bit further down the road where she lived. Carol had no wish to bump into her at this time, after all she wouldn’t know what to say and furthermore it could seriously aggravate Therese as well.

Having no real plan on her mind, Carol started to feel stupid just hanging around and hiding in the doorways every time somebody exited Therese’s building. Just as she was about to give up and leave altogether she saw a woman of about her age and status walk out of the front door and head towards her direction. _It won’t hurt trying_ , Carol thought drawing a deep, decisive breath.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” she addressed the woman when she’d gotten close enough. “Do you happen to live in that building?” The stranger stopped to hear her out. “My apologies for prying but I’ve been looking for a temporary downtown apartment for myself and I’ve been contemplating whether to rent one in here.”

The woman looked at Carol from head to toe and seemed to appreciate what she saw. “Oh no, you don’t want to live _here_ ,” she answered emphatically, “I was just visiting my daughter and after what I’ve just seen, I will need a day or two to calm my nerves.” She laughed freely at her own wittiness.

“So young adults then, huh?” Carol asked attempting to join in her amusement.

Rolling her eyes, the woman nodded. “I’m afraid so. Mostly NYU brats – like my Ann – sharing apartments and causing all kinds of trouble to the landlord I’m sure.”

A smile formed on Carol’s lips. “NYU, you say? Thank you so very much.” She had no wish to spend any more time with the lady who seemed so put off by the frivolous youth.

* * *

**_“NYU Tisch School of the Arts. Photography and Imaging."_ **

Extremely pleased with herself, Carol browsed the website to get a better understanding of the department and its facilities. While doing so, she picked up her phone to call her lawyer.

“Fred? Yes, it’s me. Good to…” An eager male voice hastened to ask about her weekend. “It was fine… I overreacted. Listen, Fred, could you do me a favour?” Her friend was all ears. “I need you to do some detective work for me on this person I’m interested in…” A spurt of knowing laughter interrupted her. “C’mon, Fred, it’s nothing like that, she’s an artist….” Again she had to pause to let him get his giggles out. “Yes, it’s a _she_ but there’s absolutely no need for you to make too much out of it, okay?”

Finally Fred calmed down enough to listen to what Carol wanted him to do. “Her name is Therese Belivet and she’s a student at NYU Tisch. Please find out anything you can about her but do it _discreetly_. Under no circumstances is she to find out about any of these inquiries.” Fred promised to look into it right away.

On her way to pick Rindy up she made a stop at the Tisch building at 721 Broadway. Since she had plenty of time to drive over to Harge’s house she decided to have a look at the Gulf + Western Gallery in the lobby.

“I’m not supposed to let any visitors in at this time, ma’am,” the doorman informed Carol apologetically.

“Please, just five minutes? I was told that the students of NYU’s photography department have their works on display here.” She gave the man her loveliest smile. “I’m in town for such a short visit and only just learned that my niece is among the artists…” Blushing slightly, the man stepped away and told Carol to take all the time she needed.

Carol walked around the small exhibition space stopping at times to read the caption under an individual photograph. She however didn’t necessarily need to read the one belonging to Therese for she recognized it the moment she laid her eyes on it – it was an autoportrait.

The large black-and-white picture depicted a young woman in dirty, striped overalls just about to look over her shoulder her stare still caught by the obtrusive camera. She was standing next to a huge gearwheel tightening it with a monkey wrench. Therese’s hair was bobbed in the 1920’s style and her cheeks were smudged with streaks of engine oil visible on her arms and hands as well. The savage look in her formidable eyes was humorously exaggerated. No wonder Carol’s smile widened when she read the title of the work – “Modern Times aka Soviet Avant-Garde”.

* * *

Fred Haymes called the next morning and asked if Carol could stop by his office at noon. He had dug up a whole lot of information on Therese – her study records, student loans, former and current employers (excluding Perpetual Sunrise), birth certificate etc.

“There’s one more thing I need for you to do,” Carol said to Fred. ”You belong to several Boards of Trustees, don’t you?” Intrigued, Fred just nodded. “And many of the corporations you represent look from time to time some art work for their public facilities, right?”

“That’s right,” Fred confirmed. “What do you have in mind?” Again he went straight to the point.      

“I want you to contact NYU Tisch and buy one of the works on display at the Tisch building,” Carol elaborated. “I will of course pay for it but the money trail cannot lead to me at any point.” She looked at her friend to see if he understood. “That’s where you come in: you express your official interest in supporting a young artist by purchasing her work in the name of a company of your own choosing.” Fred looked very suspicious but Carol didn’t let it stop her. “And you won’t let them name the price either, do you understand? You will tell them your standard payment – say, 20 000 USD? I believe that will be quite enough.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Fred leaned on his desk. “Quite enough? Quite enough!? Are you fucking kidding me? It’s a fortune for some student work…” He looked at Carol afraid his friend had gone completely off her rocker. “What’s going on, Carol? This smells fishy to me.” He narrowed his eyes. “This is no ordinary interest, is it?”

Carol’s smile was mild, temperate. “Just do as I tell you, darling. I know what I’m doing.”

* * *

“Welcome to the landscape photography course.” The teacher’s voice reached all the participants gathered at the Union Square. “My name is Therese Belivet, and I will guide you through four individual sessions around this area and Central Park as well.” She was happy to see the interest being just as high as it had been all the previous times she’d given the course.

“We’ll be focusing on honing your compositional skills to especially suit the outdoors. This way you’ll gain not only a better understanding of your digital camera but also way better travel photos next time you’re face to face with truly scenic moments…” She was chuckling along with a man and a woman making fun of their old vacation pictures when the laughter suddenly died in her throat.  

A truly scenic moment stood in the back row of Therese’s apt pupils. She was blonde and she had a brand new camera in her hands.


	9. No Exit

Therese stared at Carol. Even if Carol's sudden appearance had jolted her for a second, Therese quickly regained her balance. Her expression didn’t give away a single thing, it remained blank and emotionless. Carol had prepared herself for anger or at least for some form of irritation on Therese's part but _this_ was quite unexpected. It was a look of indifference, of mere faint recollection far too willing to turn away.

The photography class passed by uneventfully, and Carol even managed to focus on her camera’s functions. She’d bought it the day before and hardly knew which button to press to turn it on. She didn’t want to make too big a number of her being there and whenever she had a question about what Therese had just said or demonstrated she rather relied on the help of her fellow students. Every once in a while she thought Therese might have glanced her way but then again it might’ve been just wishful thinking.

The session flew by and afterwards she thought her photos had turned out okay. For a landscape class they weren’t too panoramic, though. Most of them featured a brown-haired woman who stood next to a student asking questions or showing what he or she had come up with. Carol made sure Therese never caught her taking her picture.

When their time was up for the day, Therese seemed to stiffen slightly, to expect Carol to make a move of some kind. She did no such thing. Instead Carol packed up her camera and took off quietly, nodding her goodbye to those few who had helped her out the most. She did feel a bit out of place, uncertain if her presence in the class had been such a bright idea after all. Determined to follow her plan through, she shook the uneasiness away.

* * *

Two weeks later the class had its third session at Central Park. Carol was standing by the lake watching the model boats gliding on its surface when Therese suddenly came by. “Do you need help?” she asked politely. Carol was looking for a suitable angle to capture just the right perspective for her photo of the Boathouse.

“No, thank you,” Carol replied in her subdued manner, “I think I’ve got this covered.” She recognized Therese’s tone as one belonging to a teacher who was worried she’d neglected one of her students. She raised the camera back up and tried to calm her racing heart by hiding behind it. Without any further questions, Therese hovered around her for a little while. Then, as if realizing that what she was doing was decidedly questionable, she turned her attention to a couple who had come looking for her advice.

By now Carol wasn’t at all sure if her actions would yield any results at any given time. Therese’s demeanour seemed unaffected at best, and it depressed Carol incessantly. Truth be told she wasn’t sure if she had known what to expect in the first place. Who was she to Therese anyway? Certainly not a friend, just a rich client who had provided her with yet another traumatic experience – a stranger who had dragged her to an unknown house with some seriously mean people in it.

Still Carol couldn’t put the weekend behind her just like that – she was unable to ignore her conviction that there had indeed been more to it than a mere business transaction. But then again how would she _know_? Maybe she had just been treated to _the full Therese Belivet experience_ before all hell had broken loose? Perhaps Therese was truly a pro in everything she set her mind to – photography, teaching, being the ultimate escort money could buy? And what had become of _her_ after all that had happened? A middle-aged, lovesick puppy, who read way too much into what Therese had said and allegedly done? What was even more disheartening was the fact that if it was indeed so, that measly day-and-a-half with Therese was still so much more than what Carol had been privileged to encounter in an entire past decade of her life.

_What a fool I am_ , she scolded herself at night when she lay on her bed unable to sleep, to get rest from her frenzied mind. And when she once more started piecing the fragments of their forty hours together, she got even more afraid. The details, the ones she’d viewed as _facts_ , appeared more incongruous the more she thought about them – the smiles less convincing, the looks less meaningful. Even the random hair on the bed picked up an innocent air – maybe Therese had at some point taken the opportunity to lie down on the luxurious mattress while she’d been taking a shower? _I can’t torture myself with doubts right now_ , she agonized, _I need to find the real answers whatever they are._

* * *

Carol was sitting at the back office when she heard unexpected noise from the front of the shop. It wasn’t Abby’s style to argue with the customers but something was definitely up, and she sneaked into the corridor to get a better idea what was happening.

“You heard me alright.” Abby’s tone was menacing. “I have no idea why I have put up with your shit all these years but believe me when I tell you that I am done with you...” The other person in the room kept quiet. “You are nothing but an arrogant, hateful bitch and I hope you rot in hell of your own making!” Her eyes widened in sheer shock, Carol couldn’t believe her loving friend would ever hurl such contemptuous words at another human being. “Get the fuck out of her!” Abby continued, “And if I ever, and I mean _ever_ , see your pathetic face again in any social function I will make sure everyone knows what a waste of everybody’s time your sorry life is!” She was beside herself with anger.

“Abby…” The other woman started sheepishly. _Megan_. Carol’s whole being was suddenly pumped up with an overdose of adrenaline. “Maybe it was ill-advised of me to ask you for…” Carol could see Abby take a few steps towards the person she now knew to be Megan.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” Abby yelled at Megan. “NOW!” Carol saw her friend almost leap over the intruder who suddenly retreated quickly to the door. Abby slammed it shut behind her.  

Carol snuck back to the office and pretended to be absorbed in her work when Abby came in. “I saw you standing in the corridor,” she said calmly.

Carol looked up at her friend who was still clearly shaken by what had just happened. “Want to tell me about it?”

Biting her lower lip, Abby sat down and lit a cigarette. She hardly ever smoked. “Megan wanted me to be a witness for a law suit she was contemplating.” She took a long puff from her smoke and it made her cough. “She was planning to bring charges against Therese for the croquet accident. Apparently it had caused some severe, maybe even irreparable damage to her olfactory system…” Seeing the frightened look in Carol’s eyes, Abby pressed her palm soothingly on top of her hand. “I talked her out of it… and then some.” Abby was regaining some of her sense of humour. “I don’t know why it took me this long to see what she was all about,” she continued apologetically. “I guess I’m a slow learner.”

Carol smiled warmly at her best friend. “Slow or not, there’s one thing I’ve always known about you, dear Abigail.” Her friend looked at her quizzically. “You are simply marvellous.”  

* * *

The following week Carol attended a university lecture. She had an academic degree already so going to one might have struck as foolish to anyone other than her but she had her reasons. Well, _a reason_. As much as she’d started questioning her plan to get closer to Therese, to know the details of her life and even her right to do just that, Carol felt she needed to do this one last thing. At least it would provide her with an opportunity to speak – maybe not her mind but at least address issues she found intriguing and far too close hitting to leave untouched.

Carol had called James, an old friend of hers who was a professor at NYU Tisch Drama. He was also Harge’s long time golf buddy. She had asked him whether it would be okay for her to sit in at one of the upcoming student lectures she’d found particularly interesting. Of course she’d been granted admission. The theme of the lecture was to be Jean-Paul Sartre or rather his play _No Exit_. The announced lecturer was none other than one Therese Belivet who minored in drama at NYU Tisch.

Waiting for the lecture to begin, Carol grew exceedingly nervous about her decision to show up for it. For a moment she contemplated leaving altogether but when she felt a pair of green eyes sharpen on her she knew it was too late to hesitate.

“What are you doing here?” Therese’s voice was almost rude.

“I am here for the Sartre lecture,” Carol replied meekly.

“It’s for students only,” Therese stressed growing visibly aggravated by Carol’s presence. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Carol took out a printed email from her handbag. She had seen this coming. “Here,” she handed it over to Therese. “But if you insist I leave, I will of course do so.”

Therese looked at the print and her professor’s name below the short message. She shoved it back to Carol’s hand and entered the auditorium.  

The room was filled to the brim with only a few seats available in the front. Hesitating, Carol sat down at one of them. The look on Therese’s face spoke volumes – she was going to ignore Carol as totally as she possibly could.

One of the associate professors introduced Therese telling the crowd that her presentation was part of her preparation for the set design she’d planned for the upcoming Tisch production of _No Exit_.

* * *

 

“Can anyone of you tell me what Sartre meant by saying ‘Hell is other people’?” Therese asked in her opening remarks.

_I have nothing to lose_ , Carol thought. She raised her hand. When no one else seemed to know the answer to Therese’s question, she was forced to turn to Carol. “Yes..?” she mumbled avoiding her eyes.

“First of all Sartre never really said that,” Carol started apprehensively, “It is one of the characters in his play who says _something like that_ – the line would in fact be better translated as ‘hell is the Other’.” She fell silent for now.

Carol had Therese’s full attention now. “Well, that’s very clever of you,” she said almost scoffing. “But I think we’re missing the point of this lecture if we start splitting hairs, don’t you think?” She was clearly ticked off by Carol’s comment.

Carol raised her hand once more. “YES?” By now Therese was not only angry but also very impatient to move on.

“Sartre himself pointed out that his words had been repeatedly misquoted,” Carol clarified, “I think we should acknowledge that, don’t you?” Her voice was tender, pleasing. “And I think you are just the right person to correct that misapprehension.”

Therese seemed to find some sense in what Carol was saying since she forgot about her for a while. “Contrary to the popular belief, Sartre never meant it to be taken literally,” she said, “He didn’t see human relations invariably hellish or poisoned, he only wanted to point out that _if_ a relationship you have with someone is twisted, it makes the other person hell for you.”

“As in giving me hell?” asked a young man in the back row to others’ great amusement.

“No, not that,” Therese was quick to rectify, “Sartre referred to the influence others hold over us as mirrors of our selves.” She glanced at Carol briefly. “We can never avoid being affected by other people’s judgment of us – and that can and will be hellish.”

Once again Carol asked for a permission to speak. “But every person, every _Other_ , you meet is nothing but a distorting mirror, a one that can’t be trusted. Ever.” She kept quiet for a while. “Why is it then we are so quick to define what is good or lacking in us according to them?” Carol looked at Therese who for once didn’t look away.  

“In my set design for the play I have imagined Sartre’s hell to be this frighteningly narrowing space,” Therese said changing the subject after a small interval. “The walls that close in at times grow arms that extend mirrors for the protagonists to see,” she elaborated, “but the scary element here is the fact that these mirrors don’t reflect anything. No matter how much the characters hunger to see themselves objectively, the mirrors give out nothing.” She reached for a glass of water.

“Your design is not only a delightful homage to Jean Cocteau but also a very powerful reference to vampirism,” Carol spoke up abruptly. Therese was pleasantly surprised to hear her sharp observation.

“Very much so,” she replied, “for there is a case to be made of Sartre’s characters being sort of vampires themselves – after all they are more or less damned in their selfish essences, only interested in others as targets of manipulation or objects of greed.” Therese stopped as if waiting for Carol to continue.

“Should we get back to the original question?” Carol asked after a short silence.

“Please do,” Therese quipped sarcastically but not at all unkindly.

Smiling self-consciously, Carol managed to say what she wanted to. “Whatever Sartre’s underlying motive to use his sentence may in various occasions be, the play actually stands in direct opposition of its debated truth,” she explained gravely. “He doesn’t give much hope for his characters, does he?” Carol mused out loud. “But there could be – if only they would see that it is up to them who have created their private hell in the first place to take it apart as well.”    

After the lecture Carol stood up and headed for the door. When she glanced over her shoulder she saw Therese watching her every move.


	10. The Nitwit and the Knucklehead

“Hello, Fred!” Abby really enjoyed talking to him over the phone. Five days had flown by since the Sartre lecture. “You want to talk to Carol? She’s right next to me…” When Carol tried to reach for the cell, Abby’s smile grew wider. “Oh, you want to speak to _me_? How lovely!” Chuckling, Abby was clearly enjoying herself.

“You want to talk about… _what_?” Abby’s eyebrows jumped up. “An _autoportrait_ of a _beautiful young brunette_ wielding a _monkey wrench_ …” Carol was suddenly quite eager to cut in but Abby wouldn’t let her. “IS SHE NAKED?” Carol tried to force the cell out of Abby’s hand but all she got was a thunderous roar of male laughter from the other end of the line.

“Before Carol jumps all over me, let me know what the deal is here…” Abby hastened to ask. “Wait a sec – you have the work and now you need to know where to store it… okay?” Abby shot an inquisitive look at Carol.

“Wherever,” Carol whispered decisively. “It can even be brought in here.” She hadn’t really thought about the proper place for it.

“Yeah, have it brought over to the shop, Fred,” Abby informed, “We’ll figure out the rest later on. Hell, should she abruptly want it in her apartment at some point, she can always have it delivered there.” Abby looked inquisitively at Carol. “For future reference, do we still have your spare keys here?”

Carol nodded, anxious for them to finish their all too apparent teasing. “YES!!!” Luckily the bell above the front door jingled and Abby had to quit her call. The customers waited to be served.

* * *

“Have you decided what you’re going to do about her?” Abby asked a few hours later. They were having a rather unimaginative office lunch forking their ready-made salads straight out of the plastic containers.

“I suppose you mean Therese?” Carol said demurely not wanting to assume anything.

“No, I mean Queen Elizabeth the II… OF COURSE I MEAN THERESE, YOU NITWIT!” Abby exclaimed poking Carol playfully between the ribs.

“Careful with that _Thousand Islands_ dressing of yours…” Carol laughed dodging her sudden attack, “I don’t want it anywhere near my cashmere sweater…” Tucking in a blonde lock that had just slipped on her forehead, Carol’s entire demeanor did change, though.

“I haven’t decided anything,” Carol continued eventually. “It’s been several days since the lecture and I haven’t heard a thing…” she confided in Abby.

“What were you hoping would happen?” Abby asked refilling their glasses with some dry, chilled Riesling.

“I don’t know…” Carol started. “Something… well, _anything_ , really.” Nothing had come out of their dialogue so far, and it puzzled Carol. “I must’ve misread a whole lot,” she said to Abby, “Assumed too much and blown _my_ influence way out of proportion.” Carol had thought about it enough to almost accept it as the final truth. Soon she would be ready to give in altogether.

“Lenny is about your age,” Abby said quite out of the blue. “So it’s not like Therese doesn’t have a history of falling for older women.” A cherry tomato outwitted Abby’s plastic knife squirting its seeds on her clean, crisp shirt.

“How come I don’t read that as a too promising of a precedent…” Carol scoffed, as Abby was busy swearing at her own clumsiness.

Abby quit dry-washing the front of her shirt for now. “I’m pretty sure she can tell you two apart…” Suddenly pausing, she looked as if she’d been about to say something else as well but didn’t.

“What is it? Go ahead,” Carol insisted. The last thing she wanted was Abby to hold back any of her thoughts on the matter.        

“You know, Carol – you are a handful.” Abby said smiling, “And she’s most likely as well.” Right now she was ready to give up on both the salad and her shirt. “You can’t force anything, you can only nudge things forward if you’re lucky, and _if_   the timing’s right.” Unapologetically she went ahead and poured the rest of the remaining Riesling to her glass.

“If she’s up to it, she’ll come around,” Abby said matter-of-factly. “If she won’t, it was never meant to be. It’s as simple as that.” Carol looked at Abby and for the first time really came to think of the years, even the decades of the assorted experience she must have accumulated before landing in the happy relationship with Genevieve.

Had she paid attention to Abby’s heartache over the years? Yes, but most likely not to the extent she should’ve had. Had she expressed her true joy over the love she had with Gen? Yes, but most likely _not to the extent she should’ve had_.

Carol grabbed Abby’s hands and gave them a grateful squeeze. “I’m so lucky to have you,” she said. “So very, very lucky. Thank you.”

* * *

Carol skipped the fourth and final photography class. Why, she didn’t know exactly – maybe the fear of going there and being once more ignored was too much all of a sudden. After the Sartre lecture she’d felt drained of energy and she seriously doubted if there was anything more she could try anyway. _What can I do that I haven’t done already?_ Carol asked.

Or maybe she was just being tired. Carol had just returned home after her early bird tour of the nearby antique shops. Even though she usually enjoyed these solitary trips immensely, she had hoped to have Abby’s company this time. For some reason she hadn’t been able to get a hold of her. _Oh well…_ Carol’s thoughts drifted away once more.

 _If she’s up to it, she’ll come around_ – Abby’s quip made a lot of sense. She had thought she had made an impression on Therese at the lecture but maybe she hadn’t. _I would’ve heard from her by now if I had_ , replayed in her mind.

“Mom, I’ll be on my way now,” Rindy hollered, as she was about to leave for her friend’s house.

“Do you have everything you need, sweetie?” Carol asked wanting to make sure her daughter was truly equipped for her overnight stay.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” It wasn’t the first time Rindy was having this conversation with Carol, and it was just as unnecessary as always.

“Have a good time! Call me if you…” The door closed drowning Carol’s sentence in its loud bang. _Fine, she’ll be fine…_ she mused shaking her head as she walked back to the living room to have some peace and quiet after Rindy’s not-so-tranquil departure. Just as she had stretched herself onto the couch the doorbell rang again.

“What is it this time?!?” Carol yelled frustrated by her daughter’s apparent inability to be truly organised at any given moment. Sighing, she picked up Rindy’s keys from the little bowl on the side table in the foyer and opened the door just enough to dangle the key chain in the crack. “Forgot these?” she quipped gleefully trying to imagine Rindy’s amusement.

“No.” The voice didn’t belong to Rindy at all. Carol let the door slide open and reveal the brown-haired woman standing behind it. Therese didn’t look particularly happy.

“You missed your last class,” Therese informed Carol sullenly.

“I suppose I did,” Carol replied coolly but the coolness was only skin-deep. “What of it?”

Therese’s stare was accusatory. “You won’t be getting your course diploma.” Carol shrugged her shoulders. “Let me in,” Therese said decisively. “I want to come in.” She almost bumped into Carol who stood in her way for a second. After an uncomfortable silence Carol did let her pass by.

“I’m gonna stay for a while,” Therese told Carol as she was taking off her jacket. “If that’s okay with you,” she added as if remembering her manners at the last minute. Not that it was much of a question either.

“Can I get you anything?” Carol asked taken aback by Therese’s offbeat behavior.

“No.” Therese sat down on the couch right next to Carol. “Where were you?” she questioned Carol.

“When?” Carol asked her brow askew. Therese’s questions seemed to bounce off the walls and ceilings, change directions and altitudes.

“This morning when you didn’t come to the class.” Therese stared at her vehemently.

“Well… I was here. I didn’t feel like it.” For Carol, it was an odd exchange.

“You didn’t feel like it,” Therese repeated monotonously. “You paid over 300 bucks for the course, for four lousy sessions and then you chose not to finish it?” Therese was getting all worked up about it.

“YES?” The conversation was getting on Carol’s nerves. “What the hell do you care? You were hardly interested in my presence there to begin with!” She nearly spat the last words out of her mouth. “And it’s my money and I do whatever I please with it!”

Carol had no idea when and how Therese had gotten so close to her. All Carol knew right now was how the brunette suddenly pushed her on her back on the couch and overtook her mouth with hers so that every sharp word she attempted to plop out thawed into a round, rousing kiss.

She felt Therese’s hands sprung under her top like two silky sparrows fluttering their palm-like wings on her breasts. The blouse was drawn all the way up to Carol’s neck before Therese managed to say anything at all. And it wasn’t like she could’ve really said anything since she was kissing Carol all over, moving her tongue horizontally over her bare torso as if Carol was a huge envelope she suddenly needed to moisten.

“May I?” Therese panted into her ear and it took a moment for Carol to register what she meant. A very short moment it was because Therese’s right hand had already plunged under Carol’s skirt’s tweed exterior. The contact made both women gasp, but it also made Carol wish they could continue what they’d started in the bedroom.

“Therese…” Carol exhaled, reluctant to let go of their full-body embrace for one single moment, “Bed… please, the bed.” Breathless, Therese tilted her chin up in agreement and scoped the distance for what now seemed like all too evanescent an endgame.

“I have to go to the bathroom…” Carol murmured to Therese as she was being undressed all the way to the living room door. “I… have… to…” she continued her voice all garbled as the brunette did away with the remnants of her restraint. “Be…rrright… back,” Carol grunted when Therese cornered her at the side table right below the tall antique mirror. Her chest heaving, Therese looked at Carol, lips half open and eyes dark, dreamy moss.

 _Okay_ , Carol breathed in watching herself in the bathroom mirror. _Here we go, don’t overthink it_. She was smiling happily, uncontrollably. _Therese is here, she’s here for me, and we’re about to have… SEX_. Smiling goofily, Carol came to think that maybe she should actually join Therese and get on with it. _I can’t wait_. She heard a series of loud noises outside, which made her wonder if Therese had stumbled onto something on her way to the bedroom. _Ready or not, here I come…_

“Therese?” When Carol got out of the bathroom Therese was nowhere to be found. Three doors were yanked wide open – the bedroom, the foyer and the front door. Confused, she pulled the front one shut, first taking a careful look around. No sign of Therese outside either. _Have I lost my fucking mind or is she plain crazy?_ Carol couldn’t comprehend what could have happened during that one fleeting moment she’d spent in the bathroom.

Her answer waited for her in the bedroom. It also replied to the question as where Fred and Abby had decided to store Therese’s autoportrait.


	11. The Gig

“Are you Therese?” Lifting his sunglasses, Fred Haymes glanced at the idle, young woman sipping a takeaway coffee. Not expecting to meet anyone just yet, Therese nodded knotting her brow. “You have everything you need and you know what I’m here for?” His car waited on the curb.

Therese took a careful look at the tall man and cleared her throat. “Yes, the gig you hired me for – for this weekend.” She picked up her bags ready to go.

“Good.” Fred smiled but it seemed perfunctory at best. “Can I help you out with your stuff?” he continued motioning towards her luggage.

“No, I’m fine,” Therese declined keeping her belongings all to herself.

“So you’re aware what’s expected of you this weekend?” Fred asked as they’d left the immediate Manhattan traffic behind.

“I am,” Therese said, “It’s not like I’m doing this for the first time.” She hated when she was being treated as a total, inexperienced moron.

“Well, I’m certainly glad to hear that,” Fred confirmed. “A client like this will set a precedent, you know? Leave a favourable mark and more will certainly come your way.” Therese seemed unsure whether to believe him or not. “You do this one right, Miss Belivet, and I’m sure you’ll have it made.” He winked his eye at her.

“What do you mean?” Therese asked slightly put off by his overt enthusiasm.

“Well,” Fred laughed stunned by a question he found improbable, “Everyone will want you of course.”    

* * *

They had driven for a considerable while already when Fred noticed Therese unmistakably stiffen. _Here it comes_ , he thought trying his best to appear just as cool as ever. Even though his professional years had taught him a lot about how to deal with people in calm and collected manner, he was nevertheless most thankful for his shades as Therese’s sideway glances started to become more and more frequent.

“It just occurred to me that you never gave me the exact address of this place we’re heading for,” Therese said icily. She stared at Fred with such open hostility he would’ve certainly blushed up to his ears had he been the type to do so.

“I didn’t?” Fred wondered clumsily, “Really? I’m sure I did.” All he could do was to play for time.

“No, you didn’t.” Therese stared ahead drawing in a series of calming breaths and closing her eyes to soothe her upset mind. “But I sure as hell have an idea of where you’re taking me.” She sank back at the passenger’s seat without another word. To Fred’s surprise she didn’t put up a fight of any kind or question his somewhat deceitful tactics.

Abby had called Fred and invited him to a Sunday brunch. That had happened only five days ago. She had asked him to help her in hiring Therese to shoot pictures of her estate – “in order to put the house on the market etc. etc.” Abby had explained to him.

“Are you for real, Abigail? About selling the estate?” He’d been nothing short of shocked at first.

“Of course not, Freddy! Do you think I’m daft or something? I’d rather throw myself in the Hudson than sell my inheritance,” Abby had scoffed amusedly. “I’m just sick and tired of listening to Carol either whining miserably over Therese or spitting venom because of her rash action over the damn portrait.”

Hearing her out, Fred had gotten truly curious over what Abby had obviously been plotting in her mind. “I thought you didn’t believe in meddling in other people’s business?” he had asked quizzically.

“Normally she doesn’t,” Genevieve had admitted, “and I am very thankful for that, but this time even I have had quite enough with these two idiots.” She had pinched Abby’s cheek lovingly. “My little busybody…” Gen had murmured her mouth sweetly puckered up.      

Fred had promised to hire Therese for the non-existing job, and she had accepted the assignment gratefully. The work would be performed over a long weekend, and when Therese had inquired a reason for the prolonged stay, Fred had simply stated that the owner was hoping some family photos could be taken over the weekend as well. After all they were ‘giving the place up for good’ and now was maybe ‘the last moment to capture the fondness everyone felt for it’.

* * *

When Fred and Therese finally reached the mansion, both Abby and Genevieve were waiting for her outside. “Welcome,” Genevieve said taking her hands affectionately into hers. “I’m glad you could find the time in your busy schedule to come and do the job Abby needs to get done.” Therese shot a look at Abby who had taken her time before stepping forward.

“Where is she?” Therese asked Abby sharply, her eyes darting around the main house and its surrounding area.

“Carol’s not here,” Abby said drily. “ _I_ didn’t hire you to _not_ have sex with her this weekend. You have come to take pictures, not socialize, got it?” Abby could be quite adamant and even frightening if she wanted to. “You may go and do as you please as long as you fulfil your work order,” she elaborated. “You’ll find it in your room.”

Seeing the confusion creep up on Therese’s face she continued. “There will be no formal meals served but the housekeeper will certainly provide you with adequate food,” Abby explained. “It’s up to you to have it either up in your room or in the dining hall. Suit yourself.”

“Okay.” Therese couldn’t think of anything to say. What Abby had just stated had certainly taken her by surprise but she wasn’t about to let it show. She picked up her bags and started towards the house. The memory of the last time she had approached its front door should’ve given her the creeps but just as she was about to step in, she turned her head to look over her shoulder. The sight of the storage house revived the memory of the kiss, the one so hopelessly unfinished.

* * *

Thursday evening was getting late, and Therese had hardly started with the photos. She did like to plan her work beforehand, and the work list Abby had left for her didn’t exactly stress her out. She’d get most of it done by tomorrow, she thought, kicking her shoes off and jumping on the generous double bed.

It had taken Therese a while to really fathom Carol’s absence as well. At first she’d expected to bump into her if not in her room then at least in one of the long corridors or downstairs living areas. She’d even kept to her room to avoid such a thing from happening. _And what a gorgeous room it is_ , she mused juggling two mandarins and a small granny smith in the air.  

Therese had been quite alert about possible visitors as well. Genevieve or Abby were bound to show up, she thought picturing the perfect standoffish manner to send them away. That Haymes fellow had departed, though.

An hour, two and three, went by and nobody knocked on her door. It was past dinnertime, and Therese realized that she was hungry. _Food is in the fridge. Help yourself._ Abby’s short note was indeed self-explanatory.

 _Don’t mind if I do_ , Therese thought sneaking out of her room silently. She made sure no one paid attention to her entering the huge kitchen.

“Well, HELLO!” A grey-haired woman greeted Therese cheerfully, scaring her almost half to death. “You must be Therese?” The woman in her sixties had been just about to leave when Therese had appeared. “And you must be famished!” she smiled secretively. “I’d happily warm up a portion for you – it’s nothing special, just your basic _coq au vin,_ but I find it so soothing in an evening like this… I’m Margaret.”

Therese never knew why Margaret found _coq au vin_ especially relevant on that particular Thursday night but she did allow her to set her a plate in the kitchen; Therese categorically refused to have her supper in the dining room. “Help yourself to some wine – there’s some perfectly decent Zinfandel on the counter,” Margaret instructed before leaving Therese to dine in peace.

Therese ate her meal quietly, thoroughly savouring every bite of the luscious, braised chicken cooked with red wine, lardons, button mushrooms, pearl onions and garlic. She tasted the thyme and the parsley, the touch of the elusive bay leaf in the thickened sauce. She sat on the rustic stool and imagined having sat on it dozens of times before – _make it hundreds of times_ , she entertained herself. The full-bodied red wine she’d poured in her glass warmed her blood – it kindled her cheeks and dappled the pale skin on her chest.

When she’d finally finished and placed her dishes dutifully inside the washer, Therese was sure she would retire to her room for the rest of the evening. To her own astonishment she found herself standing on the threshold of the parlour looking in, her eyes irresistibly wandering over the bookshelves and the old world patina of the room’s furnishings – the buttoned leather armchairs and sofas like tiny deserted islands huddled under the lambent lights of the lanky floor lamps.  

Both Abby and Genevieve were absorbed in their reading, and to see them so focused built up Therese’s courage. She went in, convinced of her sudden ghostlike invisibility, and picked up a rare first edition she’d admired the last time she’d been in this lovely room. She took a seat a bit further apart from the amicable couple. Even if Therese was a bit self-conscious for a while, it melted away in next ten minutes. When Abby some time later placed a tumbler of Scotch on the little side table right next to Therese, the brunette, so relaxed already, hardly noticed it or her at all.

* * *

Abby and Genevieve had gone to bed what seemed like hours ago when Therese raised her eyes from her book. Hers was the only source of light in the room left – the soft, warm halo of a quaint little lantern stretching its neck curiously over the pages.

Therese ascended the stairs apprehensively reluctant to leave the parlour. She knew she couldn’t stay there all night, it just felt like an appropriate place for – _waiting_. _If I lived here, I’d wait in the parlour_ , Therese thought. _Always in the parlour surrounded by these books like old friends keeping me company, whispering ‘she’ll be here in a minute, she’s alright’ right into my ear._

The quiet of her room pressed heavily against her from all sides, and she let out a sigh not for its own sake but to poke a hole in its fraying vacuum. Before Therese fell asleep, a passage she’d just read repeated itself in her mind. She closed her eyes and drifted off trying the revelation on as a dress she’d long forgotten but was suddenly happy to find again.

>   _“As the pain that can be told is but half a pain, so the pity that questions has little healing in its touch. What Lily craved was the darkness made by enfolding arms, the silence which is not solitude, but compassion holding its breath.”_

* * *

When Therese went downstairs the next morning she didn’t know what she’d expected but whatever it had been, the reality didn’t match it at all. Both Abby and Genevieve had had their breakfast, and according to Margaret, this had happened already several hours ago.

Having fortified herself with coffee, toast and assorted jams, Therese decided to get on with her work. She took her camera as well as all the other necessary equipment and joined Abby and Gen outside. They were busy tending to gardening and other grounds work – or at least that’s what it looked like to Therese.

She set up her camera to get as good an overall picture of the main house as possible. As always, Therese spent an endless time fine-tuning her angle and mulling over the composition. The way she hovered over her mounted camera looked frustrating enough to bring Abby over to question what it was she was currently fretting about.

The short exchange was pleasant and even jovial to the extent it allowed for a smile to enter on Therese’s face. The way Abby made gentle fun of Gen’s weeding while kicking the gravel around appealed to her as well. She felt at ease in their company.

“Is she coming?” Therese blurted out interrupting Abby’s amusement over Gen’s unorthodox way of planting tulips and its all too obvious outcome. Both women ceased their work.

“Not that I know of,” Abby replied wryly paying close attention to Therese as she said it. “Are you expecting her?” Genevieve cast a look at Therese, and it spoke volumes should Therese only choose to read what was on her mind.

“Why would I expect her?” Therese balked. “ _How_ would that even be possible?” Abby and Gen exchanged glances and left her alone. For some reason, their leaving irritated Therese more than any question imposing on her privacy.

* * *

The lunch was delicious – and uneventful. Therese had thought about downloading her digital files and working on them further when she spotted Abby standing in the parlour with a drink in her hand.

“Can I have one of those?” she asked Abby nodding towards the tumbler with red liquid in it.

“A Negroni? Sure,” Abby said and mixed her one as well. The equal measures of gin, sweet red vermouth and Campari had a strong impact on Therese who nevertheless enjoyed what she tasted. More than that it gave her the last bit of courage she seemed to need.

“Yes.” Therese said casting her eyes downwards.

“Yes what?” Abby interrogated knowing very well what Therese meant.

“I am expecting her.”

Abby turned to look at Genevieve who’d come to listen in to their conversation. Just a quick nod from her partner, and Gen was on her way to accomplish the one final thing needed to end this unnecessary misery.

* * *

Five hours later the headlights belonging to Fred Haymes’ Mercedes swept the yard facing the stately limestone house.

It was dinnertime, and the dining room table was set for four. 


	12. The Red Onion and the Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> My heartfelt thanks for all of you lovely readers of this fast-paced fic <3
> 
> I have enjoyed writing this immensely and it's been a real treat to hear from you. I will take a pause from ao3 to finish something I still have left to do but I hope to return relatively soon with a new story.
> 
> Have a wonderful autumn :)
> 
> O

“What the hell is so bloody important it couldn’t wait till Monday? Or next weekend?” Carol questioned Abby and Genevieve the minute she entered the foyer carrying her weekend bag. “I had made plans with Rindy, goddammit, and Fred wouldn’t say a word the entire…” _Therese_. When Carol first noticed her standing on the second floor landing, her heart not only skipped a beat, it altogether refused to act normally.

“Calm the fuck down, Carol,” Abby retorted dryly. “Take your bag upstairs, I’ll be with you in a little while.” She took off her reading glasses and was about to join Gen in the kitchen. Before she did just that she shot a glance at Therese and to the brunette’s great astonishment winked a mischievous eye at her.

Peeved, Carol unpacked her bag and sat down on the foot of the bed to figure out what the hell was going on. Seeing Therese had taken her completely by surprise – why was she here and why hadn’t _she_ been told she was here in the first place? Carol hated conspiracies of every kind and she was getting a very bad feeling about this. After all _she_ had already put this unfortunate chain of events behind her and was getting on with her life. Brooding over her displeasure over what had just been revealed to her, Carol heard a determined knock on her door.

To Carol’s further dismay, Abby ignored her apparent unwillingness to invite her in. “Well, hurry up,” Abby spouted, “the dinner’s not going to get ready on its own. We need your help in the kitchen.” Her hands shoved in her pockets, Abby stood in the doorway watching her or rather waiting for her to do what she’d just told her.

“I just got in,” Carol pointed out not taking the trouble to hide her grievance. “And I’m not particularly hungry anyway.” She stared at Abby vehemently.

“But I am,” Abby clarified, “and you are going to sing for your supper – or in this case, prepare it with the rest of us, so get on with it!” She turned around and left as abruptly as she’d appeared.

* * *

By the time Carol got down Therese was there already, following closely Gen’s orders. Abby had given Margaret the day off since she’d wanted to visit her son in Hoboken. “It’s not like we’re going to starve to death,” she’d convinced Margaret who’d been reluctant to leave them to their own devices.

Truth be told, Genevieve wasn’t a bad cook at all. She’d been known to throw dinner parties even without any professional help in the past so she did know her way around the kitchen. Something was cooking in the oven and it let out a hearty, disarming fragrance that was enough to fill the entire kitchen with its exhilarating, robust aroma.

“Here,” Gen said to Carol giving her a wooden board and a sharp knife. “Chop these and put them in a small bowl.” She placed a red onion and a handful of Medjool dates on the counter in front of her. “Slice the onion, quarter the dates,” she instructed as one must someone who has absolutely no idea what she’s supposed to do.

Therese was working the food processor for the chickpeas. She looked uncomfortable and almost more because of the chore that had been forced upon her than because of Carol. She pulsed the cooked yellow peas into a stiff paste adding something she’d just learned to call tahini along with lemon juice, garlic, salt and finally iced water in it to make it smooth and creamy enough to meet with Gen’s approval.

“Add a tablespoon of vinegar to the onion slices and the dates,” Gen told Carol, “and some salt as well – then we’ll leave it to marinate for a half an hour or so.” She did what was asked of her even though her actions were far from relaxed. When Gen asked her to cook the pita bread pieces and chopped almonds in butter, Carol felt already way out of her league. “It’s not complicated at all,” Gen laughed at her confusion, “Just get some colour and crispiness on them, that’s all.” After a while she nevertheless took over the pan and did it herself.

Abby tended to the wine and it seemed to be based on some silent agreement that she would not take part in any other kitchen duty. Gen and Carol obviously shared this knowledge and Therese saw no reason to question it as someone who sensed a greater truth in actions of those in the know.

It took another half an hour for them to finally sit down at the dinner table to eat what they’d come up with: a flavourful baby spinach salad with dates and almonds, and a gratifying hummus with a spiced, tender lamb shawarma falling off its bone in generous, succulent slices to top it off.    

The food compiled of such complex layers tasted glorious, and it rendered all four of them thankfully quiet for now. There was something to be said about them having made it together, having accomplished a meal they were now eager to share amiably. The fiery sprinkles of sumac coloured almost every other bite in its delightful redness leaving its tempestuous remnants on their welcoming taste buds.

“I love the way the onion and the date are so malleable here,” Abby smiled at Gen. “The vinegar just tempers them both, sort of brings them together and not only softens the onion’s sharp edge but also gives the sweet date some tangy character.” Nodding, Gen gave her beloved an approving smile.

“Subtle, Abigail, really subtle,” Carol retorted but her witty yet disagreeable manner was not appreciated by anyone around the table 

“Can’t you just enjoy the food?” Therese asked her sharply. “Sometimes an onion is just an onion and a date is just a soft, brown dried fruit.”

Without giving it another thought, Carol shot an angry glance at her. “Can’t _you_ just butt out? Sometimes my words for my friend are meant only for her.” It was a stupid thing to say and she knew it as well.

“Butt out?” Therese challenged. “You of all people talking about butting out? As in minding one’s own business? Oh… and you – you’re such a pro in doing just that!”

Abby glanced at her watch and raised her eyebrows at Gen quizzically. Carol and Therese had managed to stay out of each other’s hair for an hour and 45 minutes, which wasn’t too bad for two people looking forward to getting at it. Trying hard not to pay too much attention to the arguing couple, the two of them picked up their wine glasses and sneaked out of the dining room as quietly as possible.

“How long do you think they’ll stay that way?” Genevieve asked Abby once they were safely out of earshot.

“Hard to say for sure,” Abby lamented, “but I guess they’ll have to get it out of their system.”

* * *

It did take the rest of the evening and a good portion of the night as well. The heated argument spawning out of a red onion and a date took upon heights never before experienced with these innocent cultivars. If Carol was the quartered date, her usual sweet essence had a hard time mixing with Therese’s tear-inducing onion-y sharpness.    

Carol had insulted Therese, and Therese had no intention to soften her words with any winsome vinegar. _Who the fuck do you think you are poking your nose into my business? Do I look like I need fucking saving?_   Carol had insulted her – yes, maybe – with good intentions, but she had done it any way and it had made her feel like shit.

Carol had infuriated Therese, made her feel less than her equal by flaunting her money, throwing it around as if all it took to make her come around, to see the folly of her ways was just a hefty cheque or a bulging bank account. _As if I didn’t guess who had bought the damn portrait in the first place and with such a ridiculous amount of money!_   How could she, a pampered Jersey Princess, every step of her way secured with dear ol’ Daddy’s delectable dollar bills, understand a single thing about a poor half orphan of Czech origin who had ended up keeping company to bored, wealthy women just to pay for her tuition?

But the money had never meant _anything_ to her, Carol had insisted stubbornly. Since she had it, why wouldn’t she use it to help out someone she cared about? she had questioned Therese. She would willingly give away every last cent if it would make Therese see how absolutely of no value it was to her. And all this had just egged Therese on, made her even more furious since only a wealthy person with no real idea of how the world revolved around money and finances would say something _so_ stupid and claim it to be true.

While Carol had sullenly noted that nothing she had said had so far had no effect whatsoever, Therese had suddenly blurted out that she in fact wants to be with Carol – that she wants it _so much_ and, what was even worse, _all the time_. _And what did she even mean by saying something like that in the heat of the moment?_ Carol had thought angrily. What the fuck did _anything_ mean _anyway_ and what was she supposed to say to Therese when she had said she’d _wanted so much_? _I give up_ , she had said throwing her arms in the air, _I fucking refuse to listen this any longer_ , Carol had decided and slammed her room door behind her.

_WHOA… Hold your horses!_   Wanted or _wants_? Therese had said ‘want’, that’s why it had sounded a bit off in the first place. Or had she said it? Carol had to know for sure and since she was able to ask about it right away, she most certainly would.

Ripping the door open between their adjacent rooms Carol stormed in to catch Therese half-dressed and clearly surprised by her showing up.

“You want or wanted?” Carol questioned impatiently. “Which one did you mean?”

Therese stared at her in disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about?” She was standing next to her bed in her underwear.

“Want or wanted – as something that is now or… isn’t anymore,” Carol specified stubbornly only now noticing what Therese was or rather wasn’t wearing. “GOD… NEVER MIND.” The sudden urge to retreat to her room, behind its closed door, was too much to fight and she fled Therese’s boudoir in panic and confusion.

As Carol was back in her room, leaning against her side of the connecting door, she felt Therese trying to push it open. “Step away from the doorway, Carol,” she said emphatically. “Now, Carol,” she continued when nothing happened in a reasonable time. “It’s something I WANT RIGHT NOW.”  

Meekly, Carol stepped aside, which made Therese stumble in uncontrollably, in one mad dash. Barely maintaining her balance, she looked rather comical in her state of undress. “Carol…” Therese said coming closer. “Carol…” she said clearly wanting and letting it show. “Now, Carol,” she confirmed as she wished for her to approach as well. “Now – as if choosing to accept you and me and… _us..._ as one continuous present tense,” Therese acknowledged as she did away with the rest of her clothing. “Now, for I don’t intend to settle for anything less than…” she said discarding the last piece of her dress, “…what begins now”.

There was no moon peeking through a window that night. No borrowed rhymes or sentiments of any kind, only a light turned low next to a bed big enough for two – enough for them to finish what they’d started, to even stop for a little while, for a fraction of a second, for a heartbeat and an eyeful of sleep to only pick up where they’d left it, enough for their friends to recognise that what had happened and made them so aware of their temporality, had not finished at all but only just begun.

Never had Carol found speech so utterly pointless as when she succumbed to silence she found that night. For the words unspoken, yet revealed in their full meaning, took over their bodies like armies moved fearlessly across the map of their common ground. And so much of the terrain was still uncharted for, so much in Carol, it frightened her with its immensity but what she did not and could not know at the time was that it did not frighten Therese at all.

All the insults and the accusations, both the just and the uncalled for, withered away, the last hurtful line of defence caved in and lost its last lonely motive. It would’ve been quite fitting to say something, to fill the former angry void with spoken, tender passion but its time had not come yet.

It was as if the night and the darkness enshrouded the estate, its quaint rooms and winding stairs, in some serene, secret time created for its own private pleasure. It didn’t mark the minutes or the hours of the many meetings the house had witnessed – it measured the distance from one caress far too fugacious and thus forgotten to those always created in the heart of now.

* * *

Therese was the first to wake up the next morning. Even though she had spent a considerable time just watching Carol as she lay sleeping next to her, she knew everyone else to be still sound asleep when she descended the stairs and headed towards the kitchen.

She had been happy enough in the past to know she’d never been this happy before. Therese relished her private moment, the luxury of reflecting the joy she’d experienced in the night on the reliable kitchen counter, the gleaming gas stove and the curious cupboards waiting to be riotously ransacked.

For Therese it was impossible not to smile although she had never been known as one to curve her lips upward in excess. She beamed at each inanimate object her eyes touched upon, and had she been one to sing, she would have most likely hummed some silly tune as well.

_Hello, bowl_ , Therese greeted conjuring a whisk from a drawer to flick its bright metal flower on the bowl's red plastic side. She had already peeked into the pantry and the fridge to know she had plenty of what she needed. She set out to work her magic.

When Carol came down, Therese had already missed her. And when Carol saw her in the kitchen toiling over the stove, she found a new woman – one so at ease and relaxed, full of laughter and loving tease, it couldn’t help but find its mirror image in her eyes.      

Carol wanted to help Therese and she gracefully allowed her to do so, for it is always in the most mundane of chores in which new lovers find an exciting adventure. It is not the task itself they are focused on, though, but always on the awareness of their bodies touching or not while accomplishing it. They derive pleasure from the frivolous things since everything, after all, seems to exist only a step away from what beckons them the most.

When Abby and Genevieve made it to the kitchen, they were pleased to find it in sweet disarray. For some a newfound love may look like a nuisance or even an impoliteness aimed at them, but to those, who appreciate the true friendship these mad individuals may have temporarily shed aside, it is a most welcome sight, an evidence of their ability to find happiness and fulfilment, joy and wonder in life that may have resembled a wretched routine for far too long.

And yes, everyone agreed – the scrambled eggs tasted impeccable too.


End file.
